Good Karma
by Queen
Summary: Life. Death. Rebirth. Reincarnation. Some people are fated to meet again and again, and the Inu-tachi are no exception. Unfortunately, an old enemy once again stalks our heroes as their memories slowly return... Miroku/Sango, Kouga/Kagura
1. Good Karma Prelude

Hi everyone!  
Before you get started, I wanted to make one thing nice and abundantly clear-  
**This is a reincarnation fic. For the first couple chapters, names have been (temporarily) changed.**  
It shouldn't be too hard to pick out who's who of the usual _Inuyasha_ cast. I left lots of hints. ^.^ Once you're past this prologue, you can even check the chapter titles to see who's in the chapter. At the end of each chapter, (and at the end of this prologue) I'll tell you who is who, what their names mean, and why I picked them.  
So, that said...have fun!

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_Good Karma_

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Prelude-

_The Past_

"Onee-chan, come on, hurry _up!_" a little girl urged her elder sister, holding her hand and tugging as hard as she could, in an attempt to drag the fourteen year old to greater speed.

"Mai-chan, Mai-chan, slow down or you'll bump into someone," the elder warned, a light smile on her lips. A person would think she'd never seen a festival before, the way the girl ran around so excitedly. It was slightly rare for the two of them, though this was not Mai's first time in a pretty child's kimono or looking at vendors. With a large cloud of pink cotton candy in one hand, her sister's hand in the other, Mai was taking advantage of her new status as a seven year old. Finding out the matsuri was on her birthday only served to make it more special; Kagami intended to see to that. She'd saved her allowance for the last two months to be able to splurge on whatever candy the girl wished for. The current favorite was cotton candy, freshly spun.

Strangers started to give way for the two siblings, some in annoyance at their breakneck pace, others in amusement for the elder girl's predicament, and a few teenage boys in appreciation of the older one, with her petite, willowy body and seemingly exotic, flowing white hair. Though had they looked into her eyes, they, like most others, would have turned away. The black eyes of Kagami left an ordinary admirer chilled.

"Mai-chan, where are you dragging me?" Kagami finally managed to gasp out when the younger girl stopped, eyes darting to and fro as she decided her next destination.

"I don't know. I want to see everything." Her face brightened again as Kagami placed an exasperated hand to her forehead, barely sounding a sigh before they were off again, sandals clipping on the hard surface of the ground underfoot. She wished there was a way to hold up the hem of her kimono to free her legs, but the pale blue fabric and white obi were terribly constricting.

'Precocious' was usually a word reserved for toddlers, but it still reminded Kagami of Mai's behavior at times. The two appeared so different, to any casual onlooker. Kagami was quiet, withdrawn and regarded with an eerie kind of respect by her classmates, some of whom were also at the fair. To see her with a smile on her face would have been startling; but then, Mai was hauling her around joyously, and somehow the elder girl's expressions softened slightly when caring for her.

The red ribbons in her black hair fluttering, Mai began swiveling around again, looking for something interesting. No, she'd gone goldfish dipping earlier, that was boring to do again, and besides, she stunk at it, no patience. She'd have to find a better game, and now there was an entire row of game booths! Her eyes brightened, and Kagami braced herself for another run. There were more kids in this aisle, milling around and shouting to each other. Some boys were apparently playing tag or hide and seek.

Her eyes alighted on one of the empty booths, looking up at the prizes to be won. There were lots of stuffed animals, but she didn't particularly want one of those. Her and Kagami's room was cramped enough already, and they looked cheap anyway. Just as she was about to get distracted by another booth, she happened to notice a rack of paper fans beneath the toys, several of them spread out in neat array. Delight widened her eyes and she pointed with her cotton candy.

"Onee-chan, can I get a fan? They're pretty, like the geisha used!"

Kagami looked at her little sister for a long moment, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully. "So you like fans, then, Mai-chan?"

She nodded vigorously, eyes now fixated on the display behind the counter. "The geisha we saw danced with them...they were so pretty. I want one like that, to go with my kimono," she explained, releasing Kagami's hand and gesturing at the pretty vermillion fabric of her dress. A white obi was wrapped around her waist, with dark blue wisteria patterned onto it. "One with white and red!"

Bending down to face her sister, Kagami searched her face thoughtfully for a moment. "All right. But they're not just for sale. You have to win them. See?"

With the game brought to her attention, Mai noticed it was a ball toss game. She would have to knock down the bottles from across the counter. She shrugged. "That? That's no problem at all. I can do that easy."

"Okay then, if you're so sure. Here," there was a quick exchange between yen and cotton candy. "Just give it to the man."

"I know, I know," Mai muttered, hurrying over to hand up the coins. "I've done it before. This is easy."

Kagami didn't seem so convinced. Mai barely cleared the table. She'd have to lob the balls into the air just to get them over. The amused, rotund man behind the counter accepted the money, setting the softballs down in front of the eager girl, who snatched up the first one quickly and hurled it as hard as she could. It flew wide, slamming into the back of the tent, causing Kagami's eyebrows to lift. Maybe she was wrong. What were they teaching Mai in phys. ed? Shotput? Unfortunately, the second ball swung too low, crashing into the ground with a thud and rolling around. No control. Just wild tosses. Plenty of strength, but no aim. The fact she could barely see the bottles probably wasn't helping either.

"You suck," another voice interrupted, and Kagami snapped out of her thoughts to see a dark headed boy from the alley sneering at her sister. She began to open her mouth to scold him, but suddenly hesitated a moment, allowing Mai the extra second to rally to the challenge.

"I do not!"

He snorted, looking around the corner of the tent flap. The gang of other children were running around wildly, obviously missing the member of the group. "Do so. I saw you. You suck."

Mai's face puckered up and her eyes widened in righteous anger. She snatched up the last softball while Kagami watched curiously, and the vendor prepared to duck. Chucking the ball into the air, it slammed into the nets of stuffed animals and dropped dead to the ground in a pile of dust.

"I told you," he repeated drolly, voice dripping all the sarcasm a pre-pubescent boy could muster. "You suck. Girls."

"Girls?" Mai shouted back, outraged. "You can't talk! I bet you can't hit it either!"

He hauled himself up to his full height, pompously puffing up his chest to make himself look bigger, attempting to loom over the slightly shorter girl. "Of course I can!"

"Prove it!" she hollered back, pushing her face up to his and glaring into a set of blue eyes. She'd seen boys fight at school before. Backing down was not a good idea if you wanted to win.

"I will!"

"Good!"

He nearly growled as he searched his pockets, finally pulling out a couple coins. "Here!" he slammed it onto the table in front of the vendor, who reluctantly handed over more softballs and prepared to hide under the table. The boy sent the first one sailing over the row of bottles, earning a cheer of delight from the stupid girl who was standing next to him. A growl became nearly audible as he flung the second one, and to his chagrin, only managed to skim the surface of the table. Damn girl and her stupid smug face...he looked at the bottom bottle and took aim, letting it sail forward straight this time, and managing an impact. He grinned triumphantly, as the expression on the girl soured into a pout. "I told you!" he crowed, looking a little perplexed as the vendor handed him a closed up fan. "What? I don't want a fan!"

"Sorry kid. It's a fan or one of the fuzzy pink bunnies," he motioned at the nets of animals, then at the targets. "You only got one of the sets down." There were three triads of bottles to be broken. "And would you all please step back now, because I'd like to keep my stand going the rest of the night?"

"Of course, sir," Kagami replied, ushering the other two forward, though it barely distracted them. The boy just looked disgusted, and Mai was furious.

"What the hell am I going to do with a _fan?_" he snarled at Mai, holding it out like it was poisonous. She blinked once, then a sly smile tugged at her lips as she thought of something.

"I don't know, maybe you can dance with it. I mean, geisha use fans...I bet you actually like wearing skirts!"

"The hell I do!"

Mai began imitating the geisha from that afternoon, dancing around as though she had a fan in her hand. "You'd look so lovely in a skirt too...wanna dance with me?" She batted her eyelashes at him.

"Shut up! I don't want your stupid fan!" he flung it at her, and she turned just in time to catch it, a big grin plastered on her face as he realized she'd just beaten him after all. "Oh...just...go to hell!" he shouted at her, spinning on a heel and stalking off, leaving Mai to beam triumphantly after him as he ran back into the crowd.

The smile ended abruptly when she felt Kagami's hands settle on her shoulders, and she remembered she did have a chaperone, after all, and that scene probably just got her in trouble. Looking straight up, she saw her sister shake her head despairingly, and sigh. "Mai-chan, will you promise me something?"

Those were not quite the words she'd been expecting, and she nodded reluctantly, but seriously. "Sure. What?"

"If you ever see that boy again, be nicer to him."

She wrinkled her nose. Ew. He probably had those cootie things some of the stupid giggle squad in her class talked about sometimes. But he wasn't at her school, so whatever. She'd never see him again anyway and Kagami'd be happy and she'd be out of trouble. "Yeah, I guess. Okay."

She was rewarded with a smile. "Why don't you open your fan then?"

Mai looked down and unfolded the paper, revealing a white background with twin red stripes across the top. Her eyebrows drew together in puzzlement for a moment, and she ran a finger over the surface.

A fan. Her fan. She liked it. A delighted smile formed and she waved it once, experimentally.

No, not like. She _loved_ it.

* * *

So, anyone want to take a wild guess who Mai is, at least?

I kept the names as simple as I could make them. Mai is of course Kagura, Kagami is Kanna, and the still nameless boy is Kouga. When we meet him all grown up (er, well, in high school, anyway...) I'll tell you the meaning of his 'new,' albeit temporary name. As the story progresses and everyone rediscovers who they are, I'll return to the actual canon names.

Kagura- Mai (dance) Kuraino (of dark)

Kanna- Kagami (mirror) Kuraino (of dark)

'Mai' is a word for dance, the same as 'kagura,' and is also a part of Kagura's Fuujin no Mai attack. 'Kagami' means 'mirror,' and is Kanna's main mode of attack. Both names also start out with the letters 'Ka.' I hoped the words would associate easily. ^^;

Also, I'm going to do a little experiment this time around- I've never written any non-canon pairing before at all, so...this should be interesting. ^^; Weirdly enough, I've grown fond of the Kouga/Kagura pairing. I'm usually such a canon, traditional girl. Odd. It's also probably one of the closest to AU-ish things I've done, though I've tried to keep things to conform to canon, though since at the time of writing this, the series is incomplete, so I had to assume, guess, or make up my own stuff just to write the fic. Hope you don't mind. Anyway, this is my first shot with the two of them together. There will also be oodles of good Miroku/Sango-ness as well. ^_^ After writing my last fic, 'Through A Mirror Darkly' I wanted to do something fun and a little sexy to get my brain out of the angst, angst, angst department. This is the result. Maybe not terribly original as far as ideas go, but then, it's not really meant to be. Sit back, relax, have some fun. No, it's not comedy, and yes, it has dark moments (it's me, I can't help it! I write depressive stuff!) but the future I made up isn't too bleak. So, on with the show!

Happy reading.  
~Queen

First, raw posting: April 21st, 2003  
First regular posting: August 30th, 2003


	2. Sango and Miroku's 'NonDate'

_Good Karma_

_...deep memories yield no epitaphs..._  
_-Ishmael, Moby Dick_

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_The Present_

Chapter 1- _Sango and Miroku's"Non-Date"_

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A girl was looking into her mirror.

She made a face at it.

Checked her teeth. Wrinkled her nose.

Blinked. Smiled.

A pair of almond shaped eyes seemed to laugh at their owner's preparatory antics, a light nut brown fringed with unfairly dark lashes, complementing a soft, glowing tan. This was not a date she was getting dressed for. Nope, she was definitely not going on a date. Still, he was in college, she was in high school, and a girl had standards about her appearance. Especially if he was good looking. And seemed smart. And who cared anyway because she was not going on a date with him. Nope, definitely not. Nope.

"Senrei, are you still in there?" the droll voice of her brother sounded down the hallway, and the noise of creaking floorboards accompanied his arrival at the bathroom door. Having just turned twenty, Chinsei still looked a bit boyish, with choppy black hair and a smattering of freckles; his youthfulness was currently pronounced by a wide grin at his sister, and the purring of their aged cream colored cat, now situated contentedly in his arms. He leaned casually against the doorframe as Senrei brushed slightly wavy dark hair into a ponytail, a few strands cupping her face as she finished.

"I've only been in here five minutes," she scolded, leaning against the vanity and shaking her head with a playful smile. "That's still less than you."

"Only when I've got a date!" He defended himself with a teasing grin. "I could have sworn you said you and Haiboku-kun weren't going out?"

The smile faded from her face, and she frowned, folding her arms and looking at the cat instead. "It's not a date, onii-chan. We're...looking into something."

He arched an eyebrow skeptically, idly scratching the underside of the cat's chin. It sure looked like Senrei was getting ready for a date. Not that she went out much...dating seemed to be something she didn't bother with, though school dances had come and gone every once in awhile. Somehow, there seemed to be something different this time. She was almost jumpy. A jumpy Senrei was highly unusual. His placid little sister kept to herself mostly, but within two days of meeting one of the guys in his literature class, she was going on this strange 'non-date' with him to 'look into something.' Highly unusual.

"Well...'boku's an okay guy, but...I didn't think he'd be your type..."

She looked uncomfortable, and he could plainly see the words '_neither did I_' typewritten on her face. Instead, she shrugged, leaning over to pet the cat's head. "It's _not_ a date, onii-chan. Besides, Mica even liked him. He can't be all bad." The teasing manner returned as she eyed him from under her bangs. "After all, Mica gets last say. Remember the last time you brought a girl over?"

Chinsei nearly groaned. She'd been a perfectly nice, bright girl too. A bit bubbly, but then...she was fun to talk to. Mica sat and glared at her for about ten minutes, then began yowling unhappily, as though the girl were some evil invader sent to infiltrate their home.

"See? I'll be perfectly safe, onii-chan. If not, I'll just beat him into a pulp and be done with it." Senrei cracked her knuckles meaningfully.

Backing away, he decided it would be a bad idea if Senrei wanted to take a couple practice swings at him for fun. That earned him a light chuckle, interrupted by the doorbell ringing through the house. "Guess that's him," Chinsei sighed.

"Get the door, please? I've got to get some shoes and a jacket."

"Yeah, yeah," he agreed as she darted into her room, hearing the whoosh of the door opening a moment later and male voices begin to murmur through the house.

Shoes, shoes, sandals? She glanced in the mirror. A trendy, calf length mauve skirt, white shirt and a sweater pullover. A nice, not too dressy outfit, no ideas going to come of that, not at all. Unless Haiboku was worse than Chinsei had hinted when he'd been informed his little sister was going to go out for awhile with him. Apparently he dated around quite a bit. Which was why this was definitely not a date. No ideas. Ideas bad. This was crazy enough already.

After a moment, she settled on some strappy leather sandals and swung a light gray hooded jacket over her shoulders. The weather had been a bit temperamental lately, and it had been drizzling off and on for the last day. Snatching up her purse, and with the sandals in hand, she headed out to the foyer. Time to figure out what exactly was behind the incident two days ago.

Chinsei was a literature major at college, and Haiboku was a freshman in his class. The two apparently hit it off as friends during the first week, and had been studying together, especially since Chinsei had already taken a couple of the classes Haiboku was stuck in this semester. It was the first time Haiboku had come to study at their house; usually they stayed at the library since Haiboku apparently lived on campus.

In the later part of the evening, Senrei had come home from practice after school, opened the door, and found the two guys watching some television in the living room, books discarded as some soccer game was on and they were busy jeering at the screen. When Chinsei turned around to welcome her home...

She hesitated in the hallway a moment, listening to the boys talk and trying to clear her head. For some insane, unexpected, bizarre and breathtaking reason, the first thought racing through her mind upon seeing a young man she had never met before was...I've found him. She didn't remember how she greeted her brother or his guest, didn't remember learning his name, didn't remember politely excusing herself to run to her room and try to calm down the sudden shaking of her hands and to get a grip on the lightheaded, almost dizzy feeling that was making her vision swim. Found him. Found him. Found _who?_

Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself. It'd been easier talking to him for awhile on the phone, without Chinsei around, having late classes yesterday. He wanted to know if she'd like to go looking at some shops in the downtown area with him. He had a history class and needed to check out some old stores with antiques, and would she come with him? The era he was assigned to research was the sengoku jidai and the early Tokugawa shogunate.

She was agreeing before she realized what had been asked.

The next conversation would have seemed like pathetic drivel if she hadn't agreed with him. Stupid pick up lines. He felt a connection to her. Wanted to talk to her again. Wanted to see her and figure out why she seemed so familiar. Who knew? She wasn't going to let this situation get away from her. She was Ryoushi Senrei, perfectly capable of taking care of herself, and for some insane reason, she trusted him. Which scared her. But at least she wasn't trusting him blindly. No, that would really make no sense. Guys could say anything to get a date...or a girl...or...or...whatever. She really had to be losing it.

Plastering a smile on her face, she stepped around the corner. "Thanks for waiting," she apologized, hefting her sandals a bit in excuse and stepping into the foyer with them.

"Hardly a moment," Haiboku smiled as she began to slip the sandals on, leaning against the wall and observing her, trying to remind himself that her brother was standing right there and watching him warily. Chinsei had become a friend over the last couple weeks, but it was fairly obvious he would be more than somewhat protective of his little sister. He was tempted to go through the usual mechanics of meeting a girl at the door- compliment her on how nice she looked, tell her father- or in this case, brother- that he'd have her home at a decent time, all that was normal. Flowers, chocolates, promises you don't intend to keep...all that good stuff. Somehow, he doubted Senrei would fall for any of it, and that he'd get smacked if he tried anything. Why smacking he had no idea, but for some reason it suited her. Instead, he'd invited her to go do homework with him. Not exactly a brilliant date, because in his mind, it sure was a date, not that he would say that to her...but it was genuine invitation, and would be a far cry from the usual stroll in the park or dinner and a movie. Somehow, this girl was different, and he didn't want to treat her the same way as every other girl he'd asked out down the years.

Senrei was different. He didn't know why. She just was.

"Ready?"

She put her foot back on the ground, wriggling her toes to conform to the sandal's instep. "As I'll ever be." With a commanding look, she glanced at Chinsei and sounded more like she was issuing orders than anything else. "I'll be back by evening, but probably not for supper, so you and Dad can eat without me if he's home by then. He said he might get off early today. There's leftovers in the fridge, so don't you two go buying takeout okonomiyaki again just because I'm not home."

"I know, I know," Chinsei agreed, shrugging and rubbing behind Mica's ears as he stood up straight from leaning against the doorjamb. "No take out, we eat healthy, all that good stuff. You just be home on time or..."

"What, you'll sic Mica on me?" she asked skeptically, shaking her head.

"Funny," he rolled his eyes. "Go on your date."

She almost blurted out that she had told him a dozen times it was_ not a date!_ Her thick skulled brother. Now what? Did Haiboku think that? He had an all too innocent look on his face at the moment. What, were they conspiring against her now? Mou. "Let's just go," she grumbled, heading for the door and out into the bright but still slightly cloudy day.

A moment later, the Haiboku swung the door shut behind them, and they were very much alone on the front porch, looking at each other, Senrei hesitantly, Haiboku with a polite smile. "Shall we? My car's out in the street."

Senrei steeled herself. This was insane. But she found herself agreeing and falling into step with him, trying not to keep staring. He looked all the part of the scholarly college student, khakis and an oxford shirt, black hair pulled back into a loose little ponytail and with small, trendy golden wire rimmed glasses that would have fit in back in the '60's hippie movement. She wasn't sure if he was more into art and music than into philosophy, the way Chinsei said he was...or at least, was claiming as a major. Or he could be just a rich boy with a sports car, staying in a dorm on campus. Who knew?

At least he had decent manners...actually a little nicer than most guys her age, holding the door open for her to slide in, carefully tucking her legs up under her, self consciously. A moment later, the driver's side door slammed shut as Haiboku sat down, revved up the engine, and pulled down the street and into traffic. The non-date had begun.

Senrei shifted in her seat, trying not to steal too many glances at Haiboku, under threat of him noticing her interest. He had one hand on the gear shift, the other lazily resting on the steering wheel, eyes forward. Then at her. Damn. He saw. She immediately flicked her gaze forward and tried not to squirm.

"I've marked a few different shops in the downtown area, that we can stop by," he began casually, making Senrei wish she could crawl into a hole. This was not a date, not a date...ugh, it was a date. Why she was being so defensive she didn't know; it wasn't as if he was going to reach out and grab her ass or anything. Respond, act normal!

"Marked?"

"The phone book," he replied, making a vague motion towards the backseat with his head, without removing his eyes from the road, flicking on his turn signal and sliding into the next lane to speed up. "I'm still a bit new to the area, so I thought it would be best to do some checking. Most of the others are going to the museums, but I guess I like to do things the hard way." He was smiling, and she peered at him quietly, half wishing her hair was down to hide her face. He caught her eyes again, briefly, and Senrei quickly busied herself with twisting around to find the phone book he'd referred to. At least, it'd keep her busy. Something to look at, other than streets she'd seen nearly every day of her life.

Yanking the book forward, she flipped it open and began searching the yellow pages for the telltale marks of where Haiboku had picked to look at. After a moment, she finally found the right section, black circles surrounding the little advertisements with catchy mottoes and bits of description. A few circled were in the same vicinity, so it'd be best to head there first. _The Old Ways: Clothing and Antiques_ was circled alongside something called _Alexandria, _which sounded more like an old bookshop. _Shining Jewels: Momentos of History_ sounded mildly interesting, as did _The Fox Hole: Antiques, Books, Collectables_ and _The Broken Watch: Remembrances of the Past._

She doubted they'd find anything in a store, even an antique shop. Maybe some reproductions, but authentic? He did like doing things the hard way. Probably would end up with everyone else in the museum, too, in the end.

"Find it?"

She nodded and leaned back into the seat cushions. "Yes. Keep going north, there's going to be a couple more stoplights before you turn right. A few of these are close together, I guess we can start there." She closed the phone book, resting a hand lightly atop it. "But do you think you can find anything in a store, from that far back?"

Haiboku chuckled lightly, causing Senrei to lose some of her apprehension and relax a bit, only to scold herself for being lax. She shouldn't let down her guard...she barely knew him...and the incessant feeling that she knew him somehow kept allowing her to do that. Which in turn made her nervous. Stupid nerves.

Braking for a red light, they slid to a halt behind an oversized van and began to wait for their turn to go. Momentarily freed from watching the road, Haiboku looked at her and shrugged. "I guess I've got an aversion to museums. I got in the biggest trouble last time I was in one."

He had such a roguish grin on his face that Senrei couldn't help but laugh in return, wondering aloud, "What, did you steal all the ancient coins?"

"No, believe it or not, I fell asleep."

She stared at him disbelievingly, and then they both realized that the van had disappeared and the car behind them was honking noisily to wake them up. Haiboku quickly shifted gears and floored the pedal, sending them flying along.

"How did falling asleep get you in trouble?" Senrei managed after they were once again in traffic and weaving precariously around other cars.

"I went with my high school, to see some exhibit that was supposed to further educate us in the style that the Buddha was portrayed...basically we had to go look at the Bodhisattva all day and be amazed by the grandeur, and write a paper," he elaborated, waving a hand with a flourish and a wry grin. "I got kind of bored and fell asleep behind one of the statues. My sensei had the entire museum security team looking for me, she was so panicked. Mother and Father were not exactly pleased at my...interest."

Dryly, she leaned up against the car door and arched an eyebrow. Why did that not surprise her? "You told them you were so fascinated you stayed behind?"

He laughed out loud as they shifted gears again and slowed to turn right. "How'd you guess?"

_Because I know you, _almost popped out of her mouth, but she managed to clamp it shut before she allowed the slip. Evil Freudian things. "Just a guess," she shrugged, hoping to look nonchalant. Then she chuckled lightly for a moment, thinking of her own last time visiting a museum. "I never fell asleep on my school trips, though...I did wander off once."

"Oh? And...how far down?"

Senrei peered forward, glancing up for some landmark. "A couple more blocks. See that building up ahead? There should be a square around it, with some parking. It's where all the old shops will be."

He nodded and slowed, getting over to make a turn into a parking slot easier, then prompted, "Did the entire security team chase after you, or did you manage to steal all the ancient coins?"

She gave him a droll look. "I wouldn't steal any money. And no, I just got bored with looking at Degas all afternoon," she sighed, propping herself up against the window again and remembering how odd she'd felt, spending more time away from the group than she should have. A missed opportunity, to be that close to the beautiful, timeless paintings. The other students in her art class had been chattering quietly about how amazing it was to be so close to the art. Somehow, though, the ballerinas didn't interest her.

"Went to look at the weaponry?"

Senrei blanched and stared at him wide eyed as he found a parking spot, carefully maneuvering the car into the narrow space. His eyes lifted briefly as he saw her expression, but waited to finish turning off the car before looking at her evenly, knowing he was right. Senrei tried not to bite her lip, feeling her heart speed up, nervously. Again, she kept letting her guard down...it was eerie. She'd been reading historically based books back then...old things made her curious. Why were they used? For what? Who wielded them? Did they die in battle? Were they valiant, or cowardly? What was the weapon used against? How? What was the most effective way to wield it? Being raised mostly by her father and older brother, she got a fair share of seeing action movies, horsing around, running around, and being a bit of a tomboy. It was what she was used to. Not ballet. She'd spent over two hours walking past the glass cases of old swords, guns, bows, polearms of several kinds, not only from Japan and China, but from feudal Europe as well.

She snapped her eyes away from his, and looked at her hands for a moment. "I like old things. I'm going to major in history next year, when I graduate. I...liked them better than the ballet things." It sounded awkward to her ears, and she fidgeted. He probably thought she was crazy.

"I was interested in the Buddhism section," he said at length, and when Senrei turned to look at him again, she found that he was still looking at her, a considering expression on his features. "I just got bored with listening to what everyone was telling me. It's better to look into what you like, I suppose," he mused aloud, and Senrei found herself relaxing again, this time because she wanted to, face softening into a beautiful smile. He hadn't asked her anything about why she wandered away...he had just understood. It was the first time the feeling of trust had grown in her from something he had said; not from some strange emotion that was constantly pressing on the back of her mind. It was that moment that Senrei decided she liked him...however strange their meeting may be.

The sound of the car doors unlocking startled her from her thoughts, and she scrambled to unfasten her seatbelt and get out of the car. Food smells greeted her; there was what appeared to be a small French cafe in front of where they parked, and a couple people were braving the handful of cooler breezes to sit outside on the patio. Jazz wafted through the air along with the delicious scents of different spices and fresh baked bread.

"Onii-chan told me that you were majoring in philosophy," Senrei began as she leapt up onto the sidewalk, stepping around the front of the car to meet up with Haiboku as she settled her purse back onto her shoulder. "You're interested in religions as well?"

Haiboku considered that for a moment and ended up shrugging. "Many of those who go into courses heavy in religion end up going into the clergy." He wrinkled his nose a bit and looked upward with a look halfway between amusement and dislike. "I don't think I'd make the best monk in the world."

Senrei laughed, holding a finger to her lips thoughtfully as she looked skyward for a moment. "Oh, I know, you'd have to give up drinking, and swearing, and killing, though hopefully you don't do that...and of course chasing various girls around campus," she finished dryly, but pointedly, cutting her eyes towards him to see his pained expression. "Though I'm sure Dad wouldn't mind our outing here if he thought you were a virtuous houshi."

He looked depressed. "You're awfully cruel, you know that?"

Senrei grinned delightedly, and pointed at the building they were about to walk pass. "Here. This is the first of those antique shops you circled. The _Shining Jewels_ one is across the street," she pointed.

"So _The Fox Hole_ it is then," he declared, recovering from her last comment and bowing as he pulled open the door for her to step inside.

Bells jangled against the stained glass door as the two crossed the threshold into what appeared to be a chaotic assembly of old books, swords, jewelry, pottery, clothing and even many colored kites, flying up in the rafters decoratively. Floorboards creaked pleasantly underfoot as they glanced around, stepping aside hastily to avoid a customer at the counter, an elderly gentleman chatting pleasantly with the equally elderly storekeeper, who was neatly wrapping an oblong purchase in tissue and newspaper.

The scent of age lingered there, held in place by the books lining the shelves in their haphazard way, though the glass cases containing what should be the more expensive items were swept clean of dust and were brightly lit by fluorescent lamps, which seemed to provide most of the light in the back of the store, since only the front window with the store's name illuminated the front.

"Feel free to look around, miss, sir, I'll be with you in a second," the crackly old voice of the storekeeper called, causing Senrei and Haiboku to turn from their wide eyed staring to smile politely in acknowledgment before the discussion between the two men resumed.

"I guess we didn't need to go to a museum after all," Haiboku murmured quietly, leaning towards Senrei's ear. There was a feeling of dignity and accompanying quiet filling the place. Like something out of a history book filled with towering castles and dusty mediaeval libraries. Small tags marked the approximate ages of the items in the cases; many bore dates from the Tokugawa. "Look at all this."

He was close enough to sense her nod of agreement rather than see it, and made himself resist the impulse to wrap an arm around her waist and steer her around to other relics. No, she'd already stopped to admire something sparkling below her hand. And from the corner of his eye, he spotted a narrow, gleaming shape that made his palm itch to hold, resting lightly in one of the island cases on the store's floor.

Something shiny. Something pretty. A shakujou.

The sound of bells rang again as the last customer left, and the elderly man behind the counter turned towards the young couple who had just entered, shuffling over while patting down an unruly horseshoe of wiry white hair on his head. His thin lips smiled as he ambled over towards the girl, nodding pleasantly as he inspected the objects of what had caught her mild interest.

"Ah, you and the gentleman looking for special rings, miss?" The gilt display of multicolored facets sparkled brilliantly under the bright lights and against the dark cloth, the varied sizes and shapes visible under the splay of Senrei's slim hand.

"What? Oh! No!" Senrei spluttered at the thought, shaking her head and backing away a step, blushing lightly as she waved her hands nervously in denial. "We're...I mean, Haiboku is looking for something. For his class." She reached behind herself, tugging on his sleeve to catch his attention. With a start, he turned only just seeming to realize there was a conversation going on with out him. Senrei looked a bit flustered, and the old man had a shaggy brow arched as a sharp gaze flicked from Senrei to Haiboku, then to the items in the case he'd been looking at. His thin, patient smile curved curiously higher.

"For your class, young man?" he prompted, both brows now raised in expectation.

Haiboku blinked, then caught on. "Class? Oh, right." He half turned back towards the case of religious relics. It made sense that he'd pick something like that to write the paper on, particularly after his earlier reminiscing with Senrei. Recovering, he began to explain himself. "My professor wanted everyone to find some artifact from the past. Preferably late Muromachi or Tokugawa periods. According to the syllabus it's just got to be a couple pages, describing it and whatever it was used for. I was interested in the shakujou, since it seems like it's in good shape...though the time frame isn't marked on it."

The shopkeeper had folded his arms and began nodding seriously, white hair flopping around his ears while he sighed. "Yes, yes, that's because I didn't want to give it a specific year, since it was used for quite awhile. A rather special shakujou, too...hrm, very special. Let's see, let's see..."

He shuffled out from around the counter, a ring of keys pinging against each other on his wrist as he flipped through them, finally selecting a thick one and shooing Haiboku and Senrei aside so he could unlock the case with a click. "This one's from just the time you mentioned, somewhere from the late sengoku jidai, actually." Scooping the staff out of its resting place, he pulled up the silky navy fabric along with it to make a better display to the wide eyed pair. For being almost five hundred years old, the chiming rings all remained intact, and no rust had embedded itself in the brassy metal and set it to crumbling. Still, it looked thin and fragile due to its age; knicks and tiny dents marked its old usage.

"It's old, you know," the man warned with a frown, noticing that Haiboku had put his hands out expectantly, as though to receive it.

"I'll be very careful, if you'd allow me," Haiboku promised with as much sincerity as he could muster, trying to figure out both why he wanted to hold the thing and why an elderly man would be willing to hand over a five hundred year old religious relic to some random customer off the street. The thing was probably worth a lot of money. Actually, just about everything in here was worth a lot of money. The old man had to have an incredible security system.

The silken blue cloth was in his open hands a moment later, and he carefully turned the staff to better see the details of the top. The rings shifted and rang lightly, the sound muffled by the cloth they still rested on. "Don't touch the metal, oil from the hands can stain it," he was ordered, barely hearing the words as he examined the item in his hands.

Senrei peered around to see Haiboku's rapt face, engrossed in the shakujou. She heard a sigh from the old man, who had a strangely pleased smile on his face, just before he turned to face her. "One of my best and oldest antiques," he told her, the pleasant expression never wavering as he explained, "You see, it was supposed to bequeathed to the houshi's first grandchild, but it turned out to be a girl. Things went crazy after that, so I ended up with it for safekeeping."

"You ended up with it, ojii-san?" Senrei chuckled, eying him with amusement. "You sound like you were there."

"Of course. I'm old enough," he retorted, the grin continuing as he glanced down at himself and gestured as though his old body were enough explanation. "I'm ancient, you know. At least for a human."

"So there's a story behind it?" Haiboku finally managed, dragging his attention away from the shakujou inspection to listen to Senrei and the man again. "It'd make a better paper if you could tell me something about who used it."

Senrei gave him an odd look. He was buying into that silly story? The older man was just joking around with them. Playing. Still, the serious look Haiboku had on his features kept her from saying anything aloud. Who knew? Maybe it would be an interesting tale.

"The shakujou itself, no," was the reply, and Haiboku looked a bit disappointed before the man turned and began to shuffle over towards one of the stacks of books, shifting them around and letting up puffs of dust as he searched for something. "Around the person who held it, kinda. I mean," he paused, carefully glancing at the two of them from over his shoulder, "Miroku was part of the story..." his head turned back towards the stack of books as two different expressions suddenly shot across the couple's faces, "...but not the only one. There was a whole group. Inuyasha, Kagome...and of course Sango, too," he trailed absently, finally finding the book he was searching for, and carefully opening its creamy yellow pages. "_The Tale of Inuyasha_ got lost mostly over the centuries, but it can be found if you look hard enough for it." He extended to book out towards Senrei, blue eyes twinkling at the mischief he'd just created.

It was about damned time! All this waiting around and they just _now_ decided to stroll on in. Figured. The expressions on their faces made up for some of it. Oh, it was obvious they didn't get it...yet. But they would. That's why he was there. Sango had this look of incredulity on her face; first there was disbelief at hearing Miroku's name...shock at hearing hers. Miroku's face was similar, though puzzled, as though desperately trying to figure out where he'd heard those names before. The old shopkeeper forced himself not to fall to the floor laughing at the spectacle. How he'd waited for this...oh how he'd waited for this! It was them. There was no doubt about it now. So, then...time to give them a bit of a memory kick.

"Miss, since your friend's hands seem to be occupied at the moment, you may want to borrow this. For the paper, of course." He told them kindly, pushing the book into Senrei's hands. "You can borrow it, but I'd like to have your name so I can look you up if it goes missing too long."

They glanced at each other. "Senrei...Ryoushi Senrei."

"Shiwase Haiboku...but why are you loaning it to us? What is it?"

The shopkeeper was already behind the counter, beside the register, and was scribbling down the names. "It's the _Tale of Inuyasha, _of course. Among other things. It's been hacked apart down the centuries, and that's just a compilation of old fairy tales. It's the best I can do right now for you and your paper though...Shiwase-san." He came closer again, and gingerly took the shakujou back, laying it to rest once again in the open case, sliding the glass back and locking it securely.

"If you need any more information than the book provides, stop back in and I'll answer as best as my memory serves me," he said airily, though his look became instantly serious as he looked sharply at Senrei, who was clutching the book tightly to her. "If you don't bring the book back though, I'll be annoyed and I'll have to cause some trouble." A grin suddenly broke out again on his face as he bowed politely to them. "Is there anything else?"

"Er...no..." Haiboku trailed, a little stunned from the speed of the entire encounter. His head was hurting, not just from the lightning fast reactions of the store's owner, but from having this pounding feeling he'd forgotten something important. Something he should know. It wasn't altogether a different feeling than from when he'd first seen Senrei, though that felt more like recognition and attraction than puzzlement. Puzzlement with Senrei came after he had time to think about it. Recognizing her was odd, but why he'd find her attractive was not that difficult for him to figure out. This was different, but not completely. He wanted to look at that book. Badly.

Faltering, Senrei tried to be practical, her own thoughts still reeling from the mention of names that seemed so painfully familiar. But she didn't know them. She couldn't know them. Haiboku was having the same problem as she was; he was doing an admirable job of hiding it, but it was there, the confusion, the puzzlement in his drawn brows. What was going on? And so fast...so incredibly fast. "Haiboku...did you get enough information for the paper?"

A slow nod was her answer, and a suspicious look at the old man, now benignly reorganizing the books he'd disrupted in the quest to find the one with this Inuyasha story in it. There was something weird going on here. As to what or why it was going on he had no idea. "Yes, I think so, once we've flipped through that book. It'll make a great story, if it's not a big lie."

Still watching the old man, he was able to see a flash of annoyance on the withered face before the man's back was displayed towards him. The parting jab was enough for now. This was pure insanity already. There were better things to think about.

"Why don't we go get something to eat?"

"Sounds good..." Senrei trailed as the two of them fell into step towards the door. As Haiboku held it open for her again, causing the bells to jangle one more time, she hesitated and turned back, still holding the book to her chest protectively. "Arigatou, ojii-san! I'll be sure to bring it back."

At the polite promise, he turned around and smiled at her, lifting a hand in farewell. "Then I'll see you in a few days, Ryoushi Senrei-san. Take care."

Then the door closed, and the old man smiled.

_At last._

Haiboku pulled the door to a close behind them, stepping out onto the sidewalk and into the burgeoning sunlight, breaking through the clouds. Senrei was turning the leatherbound book over in her hands, checking the binding and noticing the old fashioned quality of its design. Hints of freshly baked bread were still drifting on the air from just down the street at the cafe they passed earlier.

"Does that cafe sound good to you?" Haiboku asked, glancing towards it.

She barely looked up. "Sounds fine."

They began to walk, Senrei searching the table of contents to the page number of the _Tale of Inuyasha,_ running a finger down the list and flipping the page when it did not appear. A few cars flew by on the street, muffling the clipping sound of her sandals against the sidewalk.

"There was something strange about that entire encounter."

She found the page, and quickly began to turn to it, sparing a guarded look up towards a pensive Haiboku. "You noticed it too." It was not a question.

Feeling a bit better now that he knew he was not completely imagining things, he relaxed slightly, looking at the set up of delicate chairs and tables that the cafe had set up outside. The old jazz music playing when they first passed it had been replaced with the sounds of classical, and violins, cellos, and flutes were harmonizing in a flurry of sound. "It sounds crazy."

"Yes."

He sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "The craziest thing about it is that I don't even know what 'it' is. This makes no sense, Senrei." At the gate there stood a 'Please Seat Yourself' sign, and glancing in towards the cafe's interior, he could see a couple waitresses moving around to fill coffee. There was only one other person out in front now, reading the newspaper and munching on a croissant. "Shall we go inside, or would you rather weather the breeze?"

"It's not that cold," she shrugged, looking around. "And it's probably quieter out here. Let's sit over there," she decided, picking out a table for two in the corner by the little picket fence that partitioned off the cafe's outside seating area. It only took them a moment to get settled, Haiboku leaning backward to check on the business inside. A waitress happened to notice his leaning back and searching, and hurried to grab some menus.

Turning back to Senrei, he pushed himself back in the chair, tipping up the front two legs to balance for a moment while she flipped back through the book to find her lost page. "We've met before," Haiboku said bluntly, deciding that beating around the bush would probably just irritate him this time, since he didn't even know what it was he was dealing with. The more he thought about it, the more certain he grew. He knew Senrei. Not how, where, or why he knew her. But he felt certain of it. Absolutely certain.

His statement elicited a pensive frown while she considered her next words. She considered demurring, laughing it off and avoiding it. Still, she couldn't. She fought down the shaking in her hands by gripping the book's vellum more tightly, wishing she knew what to say, what to do. Senrei had always thought she was a good judge of character; the strange feelings of trust, empathy and recognition towards him made her nervous though. Nothing should be that instantaneous. Everything about this entire 'non-date' had been bizarre. But whatever it was, it made her want to know what was going on. It may look like little on the surface, but simply thinking about Haiboku made her head spin, and the longer she was around him, the more she wanted to wrap her arms around him and not let go.

_I've found him._ Found who?

There really was no way to unravel the mystery unless she spoke. So she did. "I thought, at first, that was some lousy pick up line," she admitted carefully, watchful of his face. It looked amused at the thought, but not particularly surprised. "But..."

The trailing word was all he needed to hear. Relief swelled up in him. He wasn't alone anymore. She believed him. She was with him. They'd figure out whatever it was that was going on. They could do anything.

"Can I take your orders, or would you like to look at a couple menus?"

The perky voice of their newly arrived waitress cheered up the serious moment, and the couple both laughed nervously at the interruption as she offered the prettily scripted cardboard lists to each of them. Haiboku took one, though Senrei hesitated, asking, "Actually, I'm not too hungry...do you have soup or anything?"

"Of course. Onion is the soup of the day. It's very good too," she recommended with all the enthusiasm of someone who's been working for several hours on her feet.

"I'll take that, then," Senrei said with a relieved smile. "And some lemonade."

The order was scribbled down, followed by Haiboku's request for beef filled crepes and coffee. As she hurried off, Senrei and Haiboku turned to each other again, both looking determined, if uncertain. "So. We've met before," Senrei managed awkwardly. "I can't place where or when. Any ideas?"

"None."

They stared at each other for a moment.

"This really is silly."

There was a communal sigh.

Senrei looked down at the first page of the Tale of Inuyasha, open on the glass surface of the table beneath it. The old type print was a bit worn and slightly smudged. There were some illegible pencil scrawls smeared in the margins, age blurred notes of some old owner of the volume. The words, laying there so innocently, distracted her, enticing her to read them. What else to do? Talking was suddenly awkward; the food had not yet come. "In ancient days," she read quietly, skimming over the opening lines, "youkai of many kinds roamed the earth. Guarded by little more than courage and makeshift weapons, men guarded their villages when the beasts stalked the land. They sought great power above all other things. In those times, there was a Shikon no Tama they all desired..." she trailed softly, biting her lip and feeling Haiboku's penetrating gaze on her as she continued to read. "...kept by a miko who was eventually betrayed and killed, barely able to seal away her murderer..." her brows drew together sharply. Something about that wasn't right.

"Senrei?"

With a consternated frown, she turned the page, flipping until she spotted another name. Again reading aloud, "...because the houshi, Miroku, had fought the youkai before, he joined the pair as they sought the real killer of the miko, hoping to avenge the curse placed on him by..."

"That's not right."

She shook her head sharply in agreement. "No, it's not."

Feeling her heartbeat pick up a bit, she flipped another page, looking for another name that the old man had mentioned in the store. He'd said several. The title character, this Inuyasha person...someone else...Kagome? Yes. Kagome-chan. And Miroku. And someone named... "Sango was a skilled...ninja?" She made a face. "That's definitely not right!"

"You were a taiji-ya."

"Yes, I was a..." She blinked at him, then scowled, realizing her slip. "You said that on purpose."

He gave her his most innocent look. "Who, me?"

"Yes, you, _Miroku,_" she accused in return. "When did you start suspecting the book had something to do with the weirdness?"

The innocent look faded into a thoughtful one as he idly rubbed his left thumb along his right palm. "Almost right away, but I didn't put it together until you said something wasn't right about what it said. You are aware we've just identified ourselves as make-believe characters in a fairy tale."

She thought about that a moment. Next thing you knew they'd be King Arthur and Guinevere. Or Tristan and Iseult, considering they hadn't exactly picked the story's leading roles. These two...the houshi and...the houshi and the taiji-ya...not _ninja_...were supporting characters, not usually the first people complete strangers to the story would pick to identify with. Especially since they didn't know who they were or what they were like, after hearing one inaccurate line apiece for them. For all she knew, this Miroku person in the book was a complete pervert. She glanced at Haiboku. Nah. He was too polite. Besides, he looked too smart to enjoy being beaten into a bloody pulp by a molested, enraged taiji-ya.

"Why are you suddenly glaring at me?"

Snapping herself out of her thoughts, she managed to resist telling him what she was thinking, and scrambled to think of something else. Her mind settled on the logical thing: "Let's go back to the store and drag the information out of that man. I want to know what's going on." She picked up the book and shook it in annoyance. "I don't like being messed with like this. He gave us this book on purpose. He knows something about...about whatever this is."

Haiboku shook his head and waved for her to sit back down. With her declaration, Senrei had started to stand, intending to go immediately. "Wait a second..." he grinned, blue eyes gleaming, "Sango." Hearing him call her that gave her pause, and she slowly sank back into her seat, waiting for him to continue, suspiciously. "First," he held up a finger to count, "we will miss a delicious meal that I am paying for, and would rather not waste on a hasty charge back to the antique shop, because I happen to be hungry." She arched an eyebrow and folded her arms as he lifted a finger to announce his second point, this time looking more serious. "Second, we still don't know anything about this story he handed us. So we've picked out a couple names and we think we recognize each other," he shrugged. "You do understand that we're not just talking about past lives here, but about past lives that very likely never existed. What you read was going on about youkai. Are you willing to believe that not only are we reincarnates of people in a fairy tale, but reincarnates of people that walked among creatures we both know don't exist?"

Frowning hard at her book, Senrei grappled with logic and insanity. It was a book. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. Youkai weren't real. You don't just bump into disguised kitsune and tanuki every day on the street. Though if, somehow, this reincarnation thing _was _real...then what denied the possibility of anything?

Besides, something had to explain it.

"Then let's wait," she decided carefully, eyes boring a hole into the leather cover of the book on the table. "Let's do some research. See what we can find out about this story in the first place. If it is real, and we did know each other, maybe we'll remember something. It'd be more concrete."

Haiboku was nodding in agreement. "You keep the book..."

"But your project!" Senrei protested, startled into pushing the book towards him. With a frown, he accepted it, opening it to the first pages to find a copyright date.

"This was printed back in the '20's," he checked, tapping a finger against the publisher name. "If this _Inuyasha_ story survived into that era, then it's probably in some other books. I've got access to the college library, which will be bigger than the public one. If it's here, it'll be somewhere else. I'll see what I can do to find it. I've got plenty of time with the paper," he added, handing the book back to doubtful hands. "It's not due for a week. If nothing turns up, I borrow it for a day and do a midnight special with the essay."

She looked at him sourly. "It's not good to procrastinate with papers."

With a sweet smile, he intoned, "Don't ill wish, Sango."

"Who's ill wishing? You just never know when your printer will explode," she grumbled.

"Your printer exploded?"

She rolled her eyes and sighed, placing a hand to her forehead. "Never underestimate the power of duct tape and a good kick." That earned her a wry chuckle, breaking the bit of tension since their decision to research the topic. "I'll look though the book tonight when we get home...I don't know if tomorrow is good to come back," she said, glancing over her shoulder towards the antique shop, "I've got school and then a long practice, so it'll be a late evening."

"That sounds fine. I've got a five-thirty class, so I'm out tomorrow too. How about the day after? I can pick you up there if you want."

Mentally running a check through the week, she slowly agreed. "I think so. That sounds okay, and it'll give me a good chance to read all this." She skimmed through the pages, stopping at the end and quickly counting back. "This isn't too long anyway, only about...hm, twelve pages or so. Whether or not it's accurate...I guess that's up to us to figure out," she lifted an eyebrow, half teasing. "Miroku."

For a long moment, the two of them simply looked at each other, regarding their respective companion with another level of consideration. When they had stepped out of the door of Ryoushi Senrei's house, they had been an ordinary pair of young people, out for an evening of strolling around and having a nice meal, hopefully punctuated with pleasant chatter about their personal lives. Now, they were quite possibly an entirely different set of people, who possibly did or did not exist in the past. Their evidence so far was mostly circumstantial. Neither had mentioned to the other any kinds of actual memories, but the feeling of familiarity and correctness about the situation was enough to validate an investigation into the book so auspiciously given to them by a friendly but now apparently cryptic old man.

Strangely, as their food arrived, neither was particularly worried.

After all, each had already come to the conclusion that even if the story ended up being false, they would make a good team. Mainly because neither believed the story was false.

Now, for an unknown reason, after five hundred years, Sango and Miroku had found each other again.

* * *

Sango- Senrei (vivid, gorgeous, bright, beauty) Ryoushi (hunter, huntsman)  
Miroku- Haiboku (reverse, as in defeat) Shiwase (luck, good fortune, blessing)  
Kohaku- Chinsei (calm, quiet, tranquility) Ryoushi (hunter, huntsman)

Due to the fact this story takes place after the end of the unfinished-as-of-time-of-writing canon story, I have to either assume or guess a few things that will happen in the end. First off, in my happy-happy world, Sango and Miroku survive the end of Naraku, Miroku leads and long kazaana free life, Sango gets Kohaku back, the two get married and have the sengoku jidai version of a white picket fence, complete with about a dozen kids.

Since they live happily ever after for a looooong time, I'm assuming Sango spends most of her life calling Miroku "Miroku" and not "houshi-sama"...hence her use of his name, not title. It's been kind of strange writing the two of them this way...because I have to take into account the decades after the end of the series...and how they may change in accordance with that, as well as any changes they have in this life. Hopefully everything is balanced right. o.o

As for Kanna, Kagura and Kouga...not sure how they died. I'm pulling too hard for all three of them to make it through the end of the series, and I don't want to ill wish anyone. So, for the sake of the fic, I worked on the assumption they also live through the end of Naraku, and die sometime in the next five hundred years.

Til next chapter,  
~Queen


	3. Kagura's Crappy Day of School

_Good Karma_

_Past lives precede past lives,_  
_till the start of all these lives_  
_lies beyond our knowing;_  
_new births follow future births,_  
_and where these births will end_  
_there is no telling._  
_-The Noh Play 'Eguchi'_

_

* * *

_

Chapter 2- _Kagura's Crappy Day of School_

A feather was rapidly twitching and dancing between the fingers of the girl sitting in the middle of the classroom. It was a nervous habit she'd acquired over the last year since her elder sister had bought the odd looking headband for her; a soft suede strip that tied together in the back, while a few glass beads trailed down the side and ended in a single white feather. It was a strange looking bit of jewelry, and that was mainly why Mai liked it. She gave a uncaring glance around the room, letting her eyes alight disdainfully on a trio of giddily giggling girls in a corner before returning her gaze to the book sitting on her desk.

She tried to stop fiddling with the feather, but, since at that particular moment, she was not nervous, and instead agitated and annoyed, it was difficult not to pull at it. Eventually she'd just pull the feather out and the entire thing would be ruined anyway, something she didn't want. Right now though, she needed something to keep her occupied, and the complicated way a certain Mr. William Shakespeare wrote was not exactly what she had in mind. Punching in the teeth of a certain classmate, now, that would be refreshing. He'd been tardy after lunch twice this week already, and old Futotta-sensei would definitely have to give him an after-school detention if he showed up late again. That way, she wouldn't have to deal with the bastard on the way home, either. Two weeks. He was two weeks in the school and from day friggin' one he was on her case about something. Anything. Bullshit, it didn't matter. So far she'd fended him off; most of her classmates knew better than to upset Mai in a pissy mood, but he either didn't know or didn't care. Nag nag nag. If she hadn't promised Kagami-oneechan she would act more grown up now that she was in high school, she would have slugged him from the start. There was something about the boy that made her want to absolutely kill him.

Kagami-oneechan, though, could not stop working to come to school and pick Mai up for brawling. She had a real job now, one that paid very well as a secretary in a very nice, very well to do real estate firm. Her old job managing a small cd store had gotten the two of them out of fosterage, but this was a real, honest to goodness nine-to-five career that didn't run her sister ragged with demented retail hours. They actually had a little money now. With that looming over her, of course Mai promised to keep herself out of trouble. The thing was, she didn't expect The Bastard From Hell to move in two desks behind her.

Five minutes. She glanced furtively at the clock. If he was just late, she wouldn't have to deal with him now, lunch, or after school. Her eyes flicked back to the gigglers as another round of giggling broke out amid their delicate little bento boxes. It was getting annoying. High pitched like hyenas. Hyenas wearing pink ribbons that did not match with the green skirt and collar of the uniform. Color blind idiots. You'd think they'd at least wear red to match the stupid scarf. She sighed and let go of the feather, running a hand over the bare back of her neck. She liked her short hair. It was cute in a way, but more striking than pigtails, and didn't overwhelm her thin face. She wished she could wear her own clothes to school instead of the uniforms. Everybody just the same, like a bunch of cookie cutters. She'd be much more colorful.

Her own book suddenly slammed shut on her hand, which had been resting lightly atop one of the Acts they'd be reading for the world literature unit after lunch finished. Mai sucked in her breath sharply and did the best she could hide the fact that that _hurt_. Damnit. He just _had_ to be on time for a change.  
"Mai-_chan_," the voice began with false kindness, making a parody of the honorific. "You're studying so hard. A pretty girl like you shouldn't have to keep her nose in her books all the time."

"I'm surprised you even recognized it as a book, Shoukon_-kun_," she drawled acidly, cinnamon eyes lazily rolling up towards his smirking face, collected and ready for another battle. Her tone took on a sharper edge as she continued, "Considering you flunked the last tests given in here and math, I'm shocked you even knew what I was doing."

Having his lousy grades announced to the entire classroom soured his expression somewhat, the displeasure showing only for a moment before it was hidden behind a cool, careless facade. The clashes the two had over the last few days had started to catch the attention of their fellow students, and whenever there was a bit of unsupervised time, and the two were in range of each other, it didn't take more than a few seconds for a quiet crowd to assemble.

With a nonchalant shrug, Shoukon dismissed the embarrassment easily, and Mai steeled herself against whatever he had in mind next. That was too easy. He had something nasty up his sleeve. A moment later, he was doing an excellent acting job, hamming it up as best he could as he declared, "But I want to know everything about you, Mai-chan. You're like a part of me! Don't you know boys only pick on girls they like?"

Mai's stomach turned at the very thought. How absolutely revolting that he'd even suggest such a disgusting thing! He was just mocking her, everyone knew that, she knew that, he knew that, the people currently watching knew that, but to even suggest some stupid, childish romance with him was sickening, it was nasty, degrading, the sheer concept of being with him was...was...

Shoukon's eyebrows lifted in artful concern as her breath began to come up short, and a look of sudden, crushing hurt lanced across her features as she scowled as darkly as she could at him amid the pain. "Why, what's wrong Mai-chan?"

Kill him. Kill him. Slice him into little ribbons. Little shreds to be scattered on the wind and never, ever found...she tried to stand to the challenge but felt suddenly dizzy.

"_What _is going on in here?" a sharp voice cracked out across the room, and Mai thought she was never so glad to hear the sound of the cranky old teacher before in her life. Air seemed to flood back into her lungs and the roaring of blood in her ears settled down into muteness. Futotta-sensei was looking across the gape-mouthed class with a look that could've melted lead. Everyone had been watching the two argue, and the familiar spectacle was apparently enough to set off the teacher. "Shoukon! Get in your seat! Lunch is now over. Everyone, get to your desks!"

Shoukon, though, would not leave without a sarcastic parting shot accompanied by a smug smile and a wink. "See you after school, Wind User."

"Shoukon! Hallway! Now!"

A glum, "Yes, sir," turned him around, and he went trudging out into the hallway to stand for the rest of the period, with many thanks given to whatever kami were in the area by a relieved Mai. Trying not to relax too much, she still couldn't avoid a self righteous smirk at the retreating back, which Futotta happened to see.

"Mai. You'll start our reading aloud today. Act I Scene I of _Romeo and Juliet._"

Shiiiiit. She hated reading out loud, especially with this stuff. It was so damn tricky she'd sound stupid. Inwardly she groaned while the last few students scrambled into their seats and the class representative called out that it was time to begin.

"All rise!"

Slipping her feet into her pair of outdoor shoes, Mai straightened out her black knee socks, pulling them back up to where they should be. It wouldn't take too long for them to slip down her calves and get baggy, but they were starting to sink to her ankles again, despite her best efforts to keep the damned things upright. With a jarring slam, she closed the metal door to her locker and tossed her bookbag over her shoulders, settling the weight of it easily on her back. Other students were milling about, most still on their way in; she'd been casual about her efforts to get out of the building as quickly as she could. Futotta-sensei held that bastard Shoukon after class to talk to him, and that meant she may have a couple minutes to make a clean getaway. The problem was the length of time he was going to be detained. Clenching her fists, Mai forced herself to walk as coolly as she could towards the main set of doors to exit the building.

It was such a pain. Normally, she wouldn't have worried so much, even with her promise to Kagami-oneechan. There was just something in the way Shoukon held himself and spoke that gave her instant feelings of revulsion and dislike. These prompted her desire to run. To get as far away as possible. It wasn't just his demeanor, either. From the moment he introduced himself to the class, she snapped her pencil in half with sudden tension. It bothered her. There was no reason for her to want to avoid him so much. They fought often, but she usually managed to maintain an upper hand. The problem was that he had the tenacity of a cockroach. No matter what she said or did, he was there to comment on it.

What was worse, she thought he might be making her physically ill. How that was possible, she had no idea, but the dizzy spell from that afternoon was not the first time. She was fairly sure she wasn't having some bizarre psychological problem about it. Too many stupid daytime talk shows about bullying. She wasn't some sniveling, helpless little girl. Still, the pattern existed, and she was clueless as to why the worst confrontations always left her with a pounding headache and nonsensical nightmares.

Almost free. She was out the door. A few more meters, and she'd be out of the school grounds. If she could get as far as the middle school, she was home free. Students were streaming outward around her like a river, sweeping her towards the gates of the schoolyard. And, with that roachlike ability to turn up when least wanted, she heard that annoying voice sound just a few steps behind her.

"Why, Mai-chan, you're moving so fast I thought I'd miss you."

A brow twitched and she whirled to see him draw closer, invading her personal space and using his height against her, leaning down a bit to press her backward. "Funny, I don't remember being able to go that fast," she sniffed, but noticed that he blinked in momentary surprise at her words. There hadn't been any insult there, just defense. Why the expression? Whatever it was, if it unbalanced him, it was to her advantage. "Maybe next time I'll just fly out," she shot disdainfully up at him, leaning upward to press her face into his, attempting to stare him down from below. She wasn't particularly short, but she was willowy enough to let a nearly full grown male dominate her physically. Which was a disadvantage to her, in this case.

Again, her words seemed to upset him, and were enough to make him back down slightly, and she took as much advantage as she could, stepping forward to get into his face instead, hissing, "I'm surprised a slug like you got away from your scolding, Shoukon. You going to try following me or are you going to go crying to your mommy like a good little doggie?"

She turned to leave, but whatever it was in her words angered him enough to snap him out of his disconcertion, and he grabbed her wrist to spin her around, yanking her backward with a crushing grip, feeling the bones in her wrist grind against each other as she winced. With his free hand, he reached up and flicked back the fluttering feather in her hair with his finger. "You should show some respect, Mai." His brows drew down as his lips curled up slightly. "It'll be easier on you later."

Slowly, her hand formed a fist, and she twisted it around, feeling her skin burn against his, jerking away toward freedom. As she stumbled, she saw curious, worried faces beginning to crowd around them. Her breath was coming short again, and the crushing sensation had traveled up her wrist to her chest, clenching it tightly and making her raspy words tense. "Later? Heh. You never deserved any respect, bastard, so I doubt you'll get it in the future."

A cool smile hardened on his face, and the eyes looking so intently into hers were serious. "But this isn't about the future. It's about the past."

Mai grit her teeth. What the hell was he babbling about? This wasn't some samurai movie. It was just the schoolyard, only a few strides away from the confines of the campus. Running wouldn't do too much good. He'd catch up with her before she managed to turn again. Besides, it would make her look like she was afraid, and that was one thing she could not allow, not in front of the people now watching. Not in front of their accusing eyes. Shouts were echoing up among those leaving the building, greetings and farewells and catcalls. Back down now, and who knew what else he'd try to pull? Showing fear was tantamount to losing, and she would never, ever give in to this guy. She'd die first.

"You're talking garbage, Shoukon," she told him, smoothing out the disrupted feather and adjusting her backback with as much calm as she could gather. Her heart was beating hard; she had to get away and get alone. Recover. But she couldn't run. "Go harass someone else."

The loose ring that had begun to form around them began to stir, and several boys began to push forward, elbowing whoever was in their way and causing a series of startled yelps from the bystanders. Looking at the angry group approaching, Mai felt a wash of relief. They were not faces she knew by name, but she'd seen them wandering the halls before. Eleventh graders, and at the moment, very cross looking eleventh graders. Since she didn't know them, that meant they were there for Shoukon. This could be her chance to escape clean. So far no teachers had showed up, but then it was after school and nearly off grounds. No one had probably noticed, especially since no blows had been exchanged...yet.

The knot of boys pulled back to reveal two very nervous girls, one obviously trying to console the other, who looked like she was either about to cry or start screaming in outrage. Or both. Two of the lead boys backed up a step, one folding his arms and settling in to glower at the entire situation, while the other looked at the girl and asked, flatly, "That him?"

Her face screwed up into a pinched mask of anger. She nodded the affirmative. The blonde boy asking the questions turned on Shoukon, stepping forward in what Mai could tell was going to turn into an offensive stance in a couple seconds. Whatever Shoukon did, he pissed off the wrong set of people this time. This guy was older, and if not bigger, more filled out. Mai didn't care. This may not have been a rescue, but it was an interruption, and that was all she really needed. Shoukon was apparently taking this seriously, considering that condescending, antagonistic smirk of his had just been wiped from his face. Mai resisted a laugh at his expense. She could laugh later. Blondie was starting to approach, and she took the opportunity to step quietly away, backing up until the concrete wall was at her back.

"I don't really like it when little boys start _bothering_ my girl," Blondie menaced, fists ready. Shoukon gave Mai one dirty parting look before he began to concentrate, edging around for space to fight. Whatever preparation time he had ran out in that second. Blondie charged, and the swarm of students began to either run away or huddle closer to watch, screams going up for someone to come and stop the fight. Mai allowed herself to laugh then, a single, sharp laugh cheering Blondie on, hoping that her nemesis would, at the very least, have a fat lip and black eye tomorrow.

That single laugh cut through the racket of the people for a moment, causing one of the boys to lift his head to seek it out. Arriving with Blondie and the two girls, he'd been content to let his friend handle the situation, considering it was his girlfriend who was upset about whatever nonsense she was jabbering about earlier. Until he heard that laugh, he'd been calmly standing by, arms folded, inflappable amid the shoving students around him, and ready to involve himself if anything went awry.

He hadn't really paid any attention to whoever this Shoukon guy was bothering before. Some girl he didn't know. She wasn't his concern. But that solitary, triumphant laugh caught his attention, making him glance over to see her standing with her back to the wall, pressed there to avoid the boys that were jostling each other to both watch and avoid the two combatants. The happy look that he'd managed to notice while she laughed drained away, leaving her looking pained, breathing hard, a thin hand pressed against her chest as she began to slip along towards the gate.

Reaching the opening, she hesitated a moment, as though sensing his eyes on her, seeking out the source that was watching. Standing between the shadows that the schoolyard wall cast, they looked at each other through the reddening sunlight, her hand falling from where it had been resting on her collar, feeling some of the pain there begin to fade. She looked lonely that way, uncertain, head tilted to the side with her hand slipping down to hang at the hem of her green skirt, the other tightly gripping the strap of her bookbag, a shadow streaming away from her feet.

Why he was staring at her that way, Mai didn't know. Maybe he was considering who Shoukon had been trying to associate with right before the fight. Such things could be important to know, possibly being useful later. But for whatever the reason, the clamor of the fighting grew unusually loud in her ears as she met his blue, blue eyes, staring at her so sharply from under shaggy black bangs. His scrutiny began to put her on edge, unease settling into her stomach as she warily began to back away, shuffling away a step at a time. When he turned, mouth falling open, looking like he might try to stop her, she slipped behind the gate and fled.

The shadows between houses were only just beginning to lengthen, bulky shapes stretching out towards the street as Mai's light jog became an uneasy stroll. Another block and she'd be home. Probably should get something ready for dinner. She sighed, wishing she could run a hand through her hair. The headband got in the way of that, and since she didn't want to remove it, she had to leave the hairdo alone. Twirling it while walking wasn't really the same; she needed to have her elbow on a desk or something. Devoid of the ability to display any anxious gestures, she settled for a brisk, if uncomfortable, walk, with her face tightly drawn as she considered her situation.

With luck, Shoukon would be out of school tomorrow. She wouldn't have to worry. If he was there, hopefully there would be some comment she could come up with in case he decided to be his usual asinine self. If there was no damage or anything physical, she could just settle for pestering him about it in general without remarking on his lack of battle prowess. She took a deep breath and released it in a great sigh. This was getting more and more tiresome. Having to calculate didn't bother her...it was just that she had to do it all the time now. Against the same person. And it wasn't like it was fun, either. She barely maintained herself, and it was probably just a matter of time before his barbs started to actually cut.

Too bad she didn't have a 'blondie' of her own to bash the bastard's face in. At least then she wouldn't get in trouble for fighting. Especially against someone bigger than her. Claiming self defense would only go so far, considering that everyone knew they couldn't stand each other. The images of the initial moments of the fight ran through her head again. The interruption, the upperclassmen, the upset girl, the boyfriend, Shoukon's expression, and that guy who'd been watching her at the end.

Mai's footsteps silenced as she cut across the green lawn of her apartment complex, reaching out for the door to admit herself into the building and enter the miniature labyrinth of hallways. The building was fairly old but in good repair, and the rooms were priced cheaply enough and within a good enough school district for Kagami to afford the two of them. The place had been renovated recently, masking the age of it. Mai generally liked the old red brick building. It was interesting to look at. She headed up the first flight of thinly carpeted stairs, steps creaking underfoot.

What was _he_ doing there? Her lips twitched. That guy at the end...just watching. Probably the first guy's friend, since he was right up front. Looked cocky enough not to be worried about his buddy, at least. Likely there as backup in case Shoukon turned out to be a jujitsu master or something. The image of Shoukon running around like something out of _The Matrix _popped into her head. If only she could unplug the bastard and let him die.

She shoved her key into the lock of her second storey apartment and turned it, letting out an exasperated, "I'm home" to what she expected to be an empty apartment.

Instead, a soft: "Welcome back," greeted her words, and Kagami leaned out of the kitchen for a moment to wave a bag of groceries at her by way of welcome. Shutting and locking the door behind her as she kicked off her shoes, Mai moved down the hallway and past the worn, framed pictures and little mirrors that they used to decorate the tiny foyer and hallway. Leaning against a bookcase, and careful not to overturn any of the stacked books, Mai looked into the kitchen to see her sister opening up plastic bags and withdrawing various items. Daikon radish, pretzels, a carton of eggs, a frozen pizza, milk. Her long white hair was up in a pencil held bun, though the majority was now spilling messily down. Kagami never paid enough attention to appearances. Mai was the one to talk her into buying the blue suit she was in; a nice, professional, tailored pantsuit that was far better than the old, baggy sweater ensembles she kept trying to come home with. Sliding around in her nylons on the linoleum floor, Kagami opened the refrigerator and put the milk in. She was going to get holes in those things if she kept doing that, reinforced toes or not. There was only so much a daub of nail polish could do for a run.

"You're home early..." Mai began, moving to the doorway to peer inside. "Computers down again?"

Shutting the refrigerator door, Kagami nodded, looking at Mai tiredly. "Only a few."

"Someone going to fix it soon?" Mai asked disdainfully. You'd think a big corporation would be able to keep simple little computers running. Of course, computers could be evil sometimes. That was a rule of nature.

Kagami nodded again and turned away, back to rummaging through the bags and withdrawing the awkwardly shaped pizza, sticking out of the side of the plastic. With a shrug, Mai headed to her room to drop off her books as the freezer was opened letting out a chill air.

Her room was small, but it was hers alone. Posters decorated the walls, and a tall floor lamp was tucked in the corner beside her neatly made bed, the glass shade giving off bits of blue and red and yellow where the light filtered through. Though there was still daylight coming in through the window, it was muffled by the curtains. She tugged it up halfway, and moved to brush aside an unwrapped candy bar and a stack of recently reread _Vampire Princess Miyu_ manga from her desk. She sighed, picking up her old paper fan from where it had fallen, turning it over in her hands. The thin wood framing it was darkened from her toting it around with her when she was a child, pretending she was some beautiful geisha. The fan accompanied her to the new apartment, of course. Some people had stuffed animals they kept from childhood. Mai had a fan. She vaguely remembered getting it at some festival when she was little, probably at a booth somewhere. Now, the thing was constantly falling off the little tacks she used to keep it pinned to the wall above her desk. She didn't have the heart to puncture the wood with a nail and possibly break it apart. She set it precariously back onto the thumbtacks and made sure it balanced before setting down her bookbag and unloading the cumbersome math, biology, and Shakespeare books. Stupid Futotta-sensei and his 'creative' assignments.

Mai sighed, setting the empty bookbag onto her chair and heading back to the kitchen as the sound of pans clattering began to echo through the hallway, accompanied by the sound of the electric can opener whirling. Leaning against the doorframe with her shoulder, Mai watched Kagami moving around the kitchen. The daikon radish was resting on a cutting board with a knife beside it, and Kagami was currently pouring canned soup into a large pot.

"Oden?" she asked.

Kagami nodded once, placed the lid on the pot and turned up the heat before heading to the knife. "This okay?"

A shrug. "I guess so. Late dinner, but hey," she waved a hand airily. At least she didn't have to cook it, and it was going to be fresh, not instant ramen or something. Kagami noticed the sour expression on Mai's face, and tilted her head to the side, tucking one of her errant locks of hair behind her ear.

"What's wrong?"

"Hm?" Mai looked bored, reaching for the bag of pretzels now tucked into the corner of the counter under the cabinet, squishing the bag of air in her hand absently. "Oh, just a stupid assignment. Futotta-sensei's trying to be fancy again. Have pick some kind of project to do about Shakespeare while we study it. _Romeo and Juliet,_" she rolled her eyes and popped the bag open.

That wasn't what was really bothering her, Kagami realized, beginning to slice the daikon up. Mai was acting too much like she didn't care, and the answer to her question came too easily. An assignment was usually something she grumped around about, but was hardly enough for her to make an attempt at talking about it. Kagami knew her younger sister would get around to the trouble eventually. It would just take a little time for her to decide to bring it up on her own.

"Any project?"

Another shrug. "Yeah. But it has to be all fancy. We've got a couple weeks to do it. I'll probably just do an essay or something," she popped a pretzel into her mouth and looked off towards the still warming pot of soup.

Kagami set aside the first few pieces of radish and hesitated thoughtfully. "Costumes."

"Costumes?"

Returning to her work, Kagami continued slicing through the radish without looking at her sister. "Design costumes. You can get swatches of cloth from a craft store. Patterns."

At the continued silence, Kagami guessed Mai was probably considering it, though she was still waiting for the real problem to arise. The steady chewing of pretzels could be heard beside the rhythmic chopping of the knife against the wooden board.

"I could do that," Mai acknowledged slowly, then hesitantly added as she turned to the side, looking up at the ceiling, "as long as that bastard doesn't try to ruin my stuff the day I bring it in."

So that was how she wanted to introduce it. Very well. "Who?"

Another pretzel was popped into Mai's mouth and she crunched down on it. "Some jerk who's been bothering me over the last few days. Shoukon. Pain in my ass."

The cutting stopped abruptly, and Mai glanced over to see her sister standing very still at the counter, hands unmoving and the profile of her face calm, save for a slight tension of the brows. After a moment, her soft voice said, "That must stop."

Mai blinked, vaguely surprised. Usually Kagami came up with calm, logical advice about dealing with problems. Like stupid assignments. She'd expected her to ask why he was bothering her, how long it had been going on, who the boy was and what started it all. Mai wrinkled her nose, closing up the bag in her hands and asking, "You're not going to call the school or anything, are you?"

Shaking herself slightly, Kagami hastily picked up the end bits of the radish and pitched them into the garbage disposal. "No. Do not confront him. He will get bored soon," she promised, heading for the eggs in the refrigerator. "When he gets bored, he will stop."

Mai's mouth fell open. "So what, I'm just supposed to just take it until then? Nee-chan, you can't be serious!"

Kagami put the carton down and looked at Mai in the eyes, a miniscule frown on her lips. The few times her sister used that expression on her meant that she meant business, and was not in the mood to be argued with. Besides, it was the damn creepiest look Mai had ever seen outside of some movie, and movies were not face-to-face real the way Kagami's spooky black eyes were. Kagami never lost her temper, but this, Mai knew, was as about as close to it as she got. Nee-chan must have had a really, really _bad _day at work if that was enough to set her off.

Mai deflated, tossing the bag of pretzels back into their corner. She'd have to think of something else. On her own, obviously. "Fine. I'm going to do my homework. Call me for dinner," she muttered, turning and stomping off to her room, making sure not to shut the door hard enough to slam it. This wasn't important enough to cause a real fight over.

* * *

In the kitchen, Kagami stood beside the sink, filling the next pot with cold water to boil the eggs in. So Shoukon had moved into the area at last. He was acting far too foolishly right now to have yet regained all his memories, if he was pestering Mai. Stupid human. Kagami turned off the water, placed the pot on the stove, and started the fire. His actions would, of course, have to stop.

* * *

Shoukon- (scar, cicatrix- healed over scar, leaving raised tissue) Kumo (spider)

I would have had Kagura-Mai calling Shoukon by his family name, but I didn't want to accidentally spell 'Kumo' as 'Kuno' and then envision some nut case with a kendo sword invading my fic from the _Ranma_ universe looking for the pig tailed girl and Akane...

Slightly different character...just slightly.

No, you have to wait again for Kouga's other name...I haven't used it yet. Anyone think Kouga was Shoukon in the beginning? ^.^

And yep, Kagura still has that old toy fan from the fair...I got the idea for that little scene really early on while coming up with this fic, and I just couldn't do away with it, even after I realized it wasn't totally necessary. It was just cute. Trying to imagine what everyone would look like in the modern era was kind of fun too...everyone looks pretty much the same, though Kagura and Kouga both got haircuts...it was kind of fun trying to decide what would change...

Til next chapter,  
~Queen


	4. The Well Laid Plans of Kanna

_Good Karma_

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* * *

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_Chapter 3- The Well Laid Plans of Kanna_

Smooth, tiny tapered fingers flicked across the off-white keyboard, expertly typing in a sequence of code. A moment later, the hands picked up a disk and set it into the drive, setting it awhirl as it read the data stored there. These same fingers clicked the mouse, once, twice, and the data began its steady download into the computer network, as marked by a progressing red bar on the center of the monitor's screen.

Phones rang in the background, accompanied by the jumble of voices on the fifth floor of Taisho Enterprises Inc. Xerox machines set off momentary bits of blinding blue brightness when their lids were not properly closed. An employee cursed when he discovered the coffee pot had just been emptied, accounting for the lack of roasted bean fragrance in the air, replaced by the smell of reams of paper, heat from the computers, dust, and the perfume and cologne of the smattering of employees who worked that particular floor.

The disk popped out of its drive, and Kuraino Kagami slipped it back into its plastic case, then into the stack of other many colored, anonymous disks in her desk drawer. At least that was done, now, she sighed softly and closed her eyes for a moment. It was getting harder by the day. There were so many people around here. So many of them were talkative too. It was worse than when she was in high school, where she could be ignored. She'd be happier if she were left alone. But then, she had work to do, and it had to be borne. A change in light against her closed eyes gave her warning, allowing her to snap them open to see that her usual desktop had turned into the now familiar blank blue screen of death. Within a breath, a dozen voices rose up around the workroom, a couple of familiar ones shouting angrily at the machines, others wailing in despair that their work had been inevitably lost. Then, in the cubicle beside hers, a spastic, giggling screech of "Yes! Yes! It worked! I got it! I got it!"

Kagami turned her chair to the side to see her dark haired neighbor jumping up and down from where their joint laser printer was stationed, crazily waving a stack of papers before she tilted her head back in relieved thanks to the powers that be that her work had not been swallowed up by the computer void of doom. She then crashed into her chair in a lump.

Quietly, Kagami stood, and plastered the most polite smile she could manage on her face. Ruriko was a very nice lady, but entirely too enthusiastic for Kagami's nerves to handle most of the time. The woman belonged in the theater, not a secretarial pool. "Is everything all right, Ruriko-san?" Kagami peered over the top of the carpeted wall between them, placing a hand on the top, to check on the older woman.

At first, Ruriko didn't seem to hear her, too busy catching her breath after her happy dance over the printer. "Ruriko-san?"

"Eh? Oh! Kagami! You need to speak up more, I can barely hear you!" she exclaimed, pressing a hand to her chest. "Oh thank goodness. It printed, my baby here printed before everything died. Oh thank goodness...three days of typing alone...thank goodness..." she sighed, clutching the sheaf of papers as though she would die if they escaped her. "They putzed out again?" she asked, looking at the blank blue screen of her personal computer. "That's the third time in the last week! Don't the guys in tech know what they're doing?" Distracted again, she cuddled the papers tighter, thanking goodness once more that they were out of harm's way.

Kagami glanced across the room, and saw the spread of people's reactions. A couple of the women were chattering about incompetence, one red faced man was apparently trying to beat his printer with a stapler, and another was on the phone, probably calling for technical services. Again. "What is it?"

"What is what?" Ruriko repeated, looking up at Kagami, and realizing she was half out of focus. Ruriko quickly corrected her chunky glasses, and Kagami's serene face was watching her idly. Ruriko had discovered, not long after Kagami's moving into the space beside her, that she was a quiet girl, and kept to herself. This meant Ruriko had to help draw her out of her shell, of course. If Kagami was asking questions about her welfare, then maybe she was ready, after these several months, to be more friendly!

"Your paper. What is so important?"

Ruriko beamed. She was talking! Nothing like the shared near tragedy of losing two weeks of finger numbing hard labor to bring people closer together. "It's the budget reports from last quarter," she proclaimed proudly, lifting them up for display and nearly losing them when they tried to slip through her fingers. She clutched frantically at them and managed to keep them from getting out of place by restacking them in her lap. "I've been working on them for days. All I have to do now is fax them up to..." her eyes rounded and she paled. "Oh no..."

Kagami waited patiently until Ruriko's drama hit home, and she was ready to talk more. "The faxes...no, no, no, they have to be working!" She scrambled out of her cubicle and half ran, half skid her way across the aisle to the local fax machine. The small digital display was reading a nice, blinking line of red zeroes. "No!" she wailed, "It can't be! This is impossible! Kagami! What am I going to do?" Frantically, she spun around and gripped Kagami's arm with her free hand, the other still clutching the all important budget with her other. Kagami glanced down at the viselike grip dispassionately.

"Take the elevator."

"The...elevator?" Realization dawned. Her eyes rounded at the implication. "Oh I can't! I might have to give it to...to...to Taisho-san himself, and...and he..." panic gripped her and if possible, her clench tightened on Kagami's arm. "You don't know...I mean, well," she stumbled, a flush rising onto her cheeks, "he's really...ano...you know, ack, no you don't you haven't been here long enough and you haven't met him yet, have you?" Ruriko babbled, half shaking Kagami's arm. "But even if Taisho-san is really good looking, you know," she turned bright red, "he's just so _odd!_ He doesn't really look _at_ you, but _through_ you, understand?" she begged, now faintly tugging on Kagami's sleeve and desperately looking up into her face. Kagami's expression was still, dark eyes simply staring across the little space at the frantic woman. Ruriko's flush faded and she paled, hand dropping from where it was to hang at her side as she backed away a step and she shivered.

It didn't seem possible, but Kagami's look now was freakier than the one Taisho-san had given her a year ago when they met that once. She realized she was backed up against the fax machine's table and tried not to bark her shin on it. Her grip on the papers now involved two arms.

"I'll take them up," Kagami offered, slowly, gently prying the papers from Ruriko's hands. "It's no trouble. I'll tell whoever I need to of your hard work." Kagami glanced at the papers, flipping through them. They were, to her slight surprise, in impeccable order and were presented very nicely. Ruriko had done an excellent job. "If you don't mind."

Ruriko wasn't sure what she should be happier about. The fact that she didn't have to possibly face her scary boss, or that her fellow secretary, who she had to see on a daily basis, didn't look so scary anymore. It was probably just her imagination again, making Kagami look that spooky. She was only human. And she didn't hold her job in her hands. Ruriko smiled, deciding to be relieved. "You'll remind them that I did it? I'm hoping to get a raise at the end of next quarter, and I want to show I've worked for it, okay?"

The white haired head nodded faintly. "Of course."

"Here, then," she sighed, sounding a bit more professional now that the fear was gone. She headed back to her desk and picked up a nice, leatherbound folder from off the top of her computer tower. "I was putting it in here. Presentation, you know?" She searched Kagami's face for some trepidation or sign she was afraid of where she was going. Well, she'd find out what she was getting into soon enough. She'd been warned. "You sure you're going to be okay?"

Kagami accepted the leather folder and arranged the papers neatly inside. "Yes." She glanced at Ruriko, who was now wringing her hands, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "I'll be back shortly," Kagami told her, mustering a smile. "Help explain what you can with the computer problems, ne?"

Ruriko's hands stilled in shock. Was Kagami smiling? She was smiling. All thoughts of her eerie expression earlier vaporized as she considered her success with helping her newfound friend. Kagami really was a very nice person, once she started talking. So polite and helpful. Considerate, too. She'd heard a rumor that Kagami raised her sister all on her own. No wonder she was so down all the time. It must be terribly hard. She'd have to see if there was anything she could do to help out the poor family.

"I'll do my best!" Ruriko promised, winking with a snazzy salute that made Kagami blink in surprise and step back. "Just be careful, okay? Don't let him get to you...Kagami, I really owe you for this. You're _sure_ you don't mind?"

"He won't bite me, Ruriko-san," Kagami reminded her. Ruriko stared for a second, disbelieving. Kagami had...kind of...cracked a joke. She beamed again.

"Thank you, Kagami!" The sound of new voices invading the workroom interrupted them, announcing the arrival of a set of computer techs from upstairs. "I'll fill in for you. Your screen just blanked like mine?"

Kagami nodded, and turned towards the front of the room and the elevator, hearing Ruriko call a quick, friendly goodbye behind her. She tried hard to resist the urge to turn and wave back. After a moment, she felt Ruriko's gaze leave her and focus somewhere else, just as she reached out to summon the elevator. The doors swished open, and Kagami stepped inside, punching in the top floor and considering what she told Ruriko a minute earlier.

Taisho-san didn't bite. At least not in human form. It would probably look rather odd.

The elevator doors closed, and she was on her way up.

As the elevator doors slid open, the spacious reception area of the CEO's office sprawled outward before her, frosty blue carpeting offset by the steel grey insignia of the Taisho Corporation mounted and backlit on the wall behind an oversized mahogany desk. A rather stodgy looking older woman was playing sentinel behind the desk, glancing furtively upward to see who it was invading her territory.

Hawklike eyes peered over the wire rims of her glasses as she stopped her typing, giving Kagami a cursory examination. "May I help you?"

"I was told to bring these to Taisho-san, ma'am."

An artfully penciled eyebrow lifted, and her lips pursed as she narrowly met Kagami's eyes, the frown deepening at the liquid black stare she received in return. "And you are?"

"Kuraino Kagami. With the budget."

The other eyebrow lifted to match the other. "And this couldn't have just been faxed up to me?" she sniffed, gesturing with a ringed hand towards her personal fax. "Don't tell me the computers are down on one of the floors again." Kagami bowed her head politely, still not letting go of the woman's gaze, which seemed to shift, not with unease, but with consideration. She didn't seem particularly perturbed by the eerie eyes laid upon her, though she did seem to understand there was something more behind the look. Her thin lips twitched, and she nodded brusquely, as though coming to a decision. She turned in her chair and pressed a button behind her desk, calmly announcing, "Taisho-san, a Kuraino Kagami-san is delivering last quarter's report. Should I send her in?"

The answer was a polite pinging sound, and the snapping of the side door unlocking. The personal secretary nodded to Kagami, and waved her in, turning back to her own set of daily work by frowning at whatever was on her own screen and picking up the phone, dialing in extension numbers.

Kagami took all this as her cue to go, and headed towards the double doors before they locked themselves again, barring her entrance. The brass knob turned easily, and she slipped inside. The inner office was not too different from the outside, decked with the same muted blues and greys, though decorated with works of framed ukiyo-e hanging on the walls, and richly upholstered furniture resting throughout the room. A large window overlooking the higher Tokyo skyline was situated behind the desk; it was a blue day, though there were many high white and grey clouds hanging in the distance, sweeping forward between the dark curtains that framed the thinly rimmed panes of glass. Behind the desk, a man sat in the squared away sunlight, turned away from his computer screen and reading from a clipboard, idly glancing upward at the sound of his door clicking to a close.

He had changed down the centuries, of course. The various times she'd had to sit still and hold her mirror in place had given the young detachment named Kanna a fairly good look at her prospective enemies. Sesshoumaru, as he was then, was one of the most powerful of those enemies, and she hoped he remained so. With the years of change and the burning times for the youkai of the Tokugawa era, any youkai who wished to survive had been forced to change. This was a gamble; nothing less. Even the mighty had been brought low, and though she somehow doubted the inuyoukai's pride would be terribly damaged, it was possible, and a thing she had to consider. There were many possibilities. It was a matter of what was probable. If her gamble played out the way she hoped, then perhaps she could wrestle a happy ending for them all. If it did not, or he failed to understand her message, she did not know what the consequences could be.

Temporal paradoxes were beyond her realm of understanding.

The desperation of an evil hanyou who knew he was going to die was not, and she did not have much time before he grew too strong for her, and the story, as it was to be, warped.

Sesshoumaru swung his chair around, waiting for her to announce herself. He looked much the same, she could tell as she approached, but had, as most of the handful of remaining youkai were apt to do, softened some of the more youkai like traits of his appearance. Gone were the facial markings and the pointed ears. He seemed, like herself, not to care much for hair coloring, and had pulled the long white fall of his into a neat, shoulder length tail at the back of his neck. He a wore a black business suit, collar open and tie removed. Eyes once golden had turned a dark honey color, a shade just passable as light brown. Ruriko had been correct in her description of him not looking at, but through a person. The honey colored eyes were dispassionate, though penetrating. She met them. That was enough to catch his attention.

With a pale hand, she held out the leather folder and bowed politely as he accepted it. "My co-worker, Fujima-san, completed the budget report. She is dealing with a computer crisis on our floor and sends her regrets at her inability to deliver the report herself." Her announcement complete, she straightened and caught the gaze she knew was on her in the few moments she had to look politely away, half bent over. It must have seemed ludicrous to him, listening to her standing there and lauding the achievement and completion of a report that played such an insignificant part in the last five hundred years, or of the days that were to come. She felt the silliness of it, and by the somber frown that had settled on his face, she knew he was growing aware of some unusual element in their conversation, and was attempting to pinpoint it.

The silence hung, and with a cautious, deliberate, silent step, Kagami began to turn away.

Then, darkly, "Who were you?"

Not are, but _were_. He had guessed correctly, if he guessed at all. Kagami stopped, poised halfway into her pivot, sliding her eyes back to meet his so very carefully. "Kanna."

She did not expect a reaction, nor did she receive one.

"And you work for me."

"Yes."

"For how long?"

A swift mental tally. "Seven months now." She imagined him releasing a low breath at the length of time she had gone unnoticed, though heard nor saw any change in his countenance.

"Kuraino Kagami."

"Yes."

His eyes narrowed fractionally. "You know of others."

Others like her. Others who remembered. Others who had been involved. She thought of Mai, and by doing so, allowed her eyes to drop for a fraction of a second, giving him an answer that way instead.

He set the leather folder on his desk, among the tidy cream toned piles of paper and carbon forms. "Why reveal yourself now?"

He didn't know? Couldn't guess? The mighty Sesshoumaru? She crushed a rising of amusement with a twinge of guilt, tiny white hands curling into fists at her sides to keep a slight chuckle from escaping her.

But, before the wrong words could slip from her lips, the office door burst open and a bright and cheerful, "Oto-sama!" rang out, along with light footsteps and a belated attempt to hold the young woman back by the panicked secretary at the doors. Kagami's head swiveled to see the spectacle, the stuffy older woman trying to chase down the woman in the flowery red and white sundress and sandals, a jacket in her hand and a slim red headband offsetting a smooth, shoulder length flip. She was laughing as she avoiding the grasp of the secretary, a wicked little grin showing she knew she had burst in when she wasn't supposed to, but didn't particularly care. She did, however, expect her 'oto-sama' to be pouring over some boring papers, not be in the middle of what looked like a relatively serious meeting with a woman of about her age. That pulled her up short, and she looked uncertainly between the three of them for some cue on how to act.

The slight but steady frown on Sesshoumaru's face deepened, and he looked at his secretary, who was desperately trying to explain that she told the woman to stop. "Hisho-san, please return to your desk. Kuraino-san was just leaving."

The woman, still flustered, smoothed out her skirt hastily and bowed apologetically away, closing the door behind her. The newcomer felt the weight of the other two in the room pour down on her, and she shifted, trying her best to smile her way cutely through it. "Ah, hi," she greeted, first Sesshoumaru, then held up a hand and waved to Kagami. Neither of the two seemed ready to put her at ease, and her smile waned nervously.

"I should return to my work, Taisho-san," Kagami said at length, breaking the uncomfortable silence and wishing the girl hadn't showed up. How in the habit was Sesshoumaru of taking in random human girls? She'd already noticed the way the girl looked, and tried matching her appearance to the mirror held memories of before. It was possible...she and Mai were proof enough that at least two of their old story had returned to the world. Given time and the difference of her growing up, it was not improbable that the girl was, in fact, an adult, reborn Rin. With her there, it threw off the entire point of coming this far, probably ruining it entirely. The small fists she had formed tensed again, then flattened as she bowed, this time to excuse herself from the room.

"Kuraino-san," Sesshoumaru interrupted once she was heading towards the door, "there is a restaurant called _La Villa_ down the street. Do you know of it?"

Kagami froze, schooling her face into stillness. The Rin reincarnate was staring wide eyed at her, waiting for a reaction. It was actually a little cafe, and she had eaten there before during the lunch rush, though after the business district released for the day, the place was probably empty until the next afternoon. "Yes."

"I will see you there tomorrow at five o'clock. We will continue this conversation."

She nodded in understanding. If Rin was there, and she was there, and she knew of someone else, then she had evidently piqued enough of the taiyoukai's interest to warrant another meeting. She had a second chance, and one she didn't have to devise on her own. She'd feel relieved later. She placed a hand on the knob of the door and slipped through.

Owlishly, Rin blinked back and forth at the door and then at Sesshoumaru, tilting her head and closing an eye, then shrugged as though coming to a great decision. "Well, oto-sama, she's not much older than me...I would have thought you'd go after someone your own age. You know, at least a few hundred years old," she grinned impishly, long since having learned when to stop pushing with her 'father.' That was about as far as she'd ever dared, and his flat, "Rin" of warning was enough to silence her and wonder what that really was about.

Flopping her jacket onto one of the stuffed chairs, she sidled over behind the desk and peered over his shoulder, trying to read what he suddenly decided was of interest. "Oto-sama..." she prodded, whining ever so slightly, laying her arms behind his chair and tiptoed her way up to spy over his head.

"Rin."

An annoyed pout formed for a second, and she sighed, backing off and leaning against the side of the desk, folding her arms and trying the direct, serious approach. "Who was that and why are you going to a meeting with her?"

In response to both of these questions, he said simply, "Kanna."

Rin frowned. Was this someone she knew? "Kanna?"

He continued reading the report Ruriko had written up. Rin grimaced, getting the feeling he was in one of his moods again. "Can you at least give me a hint?"

Apparently willing to indulge the request, he offered, "I don't believe the two of you met, though you may be more familiar with her sister Kagura."

Rin's eyes turned perfectly round as blood drained from her face, strangling out, "She's a _detachment?_" as she looked frantically back at the door, as though expecting Kanna to come bursting back in to kill everyone in sight. "But...but she was human!" Rin began to stutter as the initial shock began to wear off. "If she was one of Naraku's detachments, she'd be youkai...there wasn't any youki around her!" Half of her wanted to ask if he was serious; but then, this was Sesshoumaru-sama. He had no sense of humor. So of course he was serious. If she wasn't a youkai, and she was a human, that meant...Rin bit her lip. "She's like me. A reincarnate, then, isn't she? When'd she die? How? I don't remember her at all. I know my memory isn't totally complete, Sesshoumaru-sama, but if she was a youkai, she'd have to have died during the big fight or have been killed by the humans in that other time. Why'd she come here? What-"

"Rin. Be quiet."

She stopped mid-sentence and waited for him to give her some answer. Sesshoumaru closed the leather folder with a snap and set it on the desk. He'd give it to Hisho later to take care of. "The reason for my meeting with her later is because my questions were interrupted, Rin."

Rin looked a bit embarrassed.

"I'll speak to her more tomorrow," he continued, the frown on his face remaining. After finding Rin as a child, he had not discovered any others like her, until today. He knew that the kitsune brat that hung around his brother was roaming the planet a hundred years or so back, so it was likely that he was still alive if he'd survived that long. Then that Shippou person had been a youkai, not an incarnate. He had eventually begun to assume Rin's discovery was a mere fluke, particularly considering the similar circumstances of the two situations, though had never felt quite right with it. Now, that uncomfortable feeling was beginning to manifest itself. One of the detachments was alive, and knew who she was. Unfortunately, it was the detachment he had never had dealings with, and did not know exactly what she was capable of, reincarnated or no. Kagura was a loose canon with her own agenda. This Kanna person wasn't even remotely alike. "Until then, find out what you can about Kuraino Kagami-san. Family, history, location. You can start with the company records."

Rin smiled a bit, trying to relax a little. This Kagami person was a human, not a youkai, and besides, who'd dare attack her, anyway, with her big bad Sesshoumaru-sama around? "I get it. You sent me to college for two years just to become a hacker, huh?"

Stony silence.

She withheld a groan. Fine, if he was going to be that way. "Okay, okay, I'll start digging. Kuraino Kagami. Age, family, history, the works. It might take me more than twenty-four hours to get everything though, if she's been hiding things. I'll see what I can do about any other leads if anything good turns up, like other reincarnates. Wow, I feel like a Bond girl, oto-sama," she giggled, tugging on his arm fruitlessly. "And come on. It's already past lunchtime, and I want to check out this _Villa _place now. I'm starving, and you work too much. I need you to sign some papers too for school if I'm transferring to Tokyo University next semester. Come on," she tugged a little harder, finally getting a grudging agreement from him by his standing up and shuffling a couple papers into order on the big desk. "Mou, I never thought you'd be such a workaholic. You need to get out more."

"Rin."

That was the warning shot, again. What was it, the third? fourth? time within the last few minutes? She released his sleeve and went to grab her jacket. Well, with her back from school, she'd get him to loosen up a bit again. And maybe, just maybe, she'd be super lucky in her search and find a few things she'd been looking for herself.

* * *

Shiwase Haiboku, not so ordinary college student, pulled his car into the nearly empty parking lot of Ryoushi Senrei's high school, the little sports car not quite fitting in with the more parentally driven cars dotting the concrete. School was out for the day, and the ones left were mostly there for either detention or extracurricular activities. Senrei was involved in the extracurriculars. Imagining her sitting around in detention seemed pretty funny, but he doubted she'd ever sat with a teacher after school for punishment. He didn't miss that about high school at all.

It was Chinsei who told him where to find Senrei; just look in the back, for the field. Haiboku remembered Senrei saying things about practice, and since he was directed towards the outside of the school building, he assumed that she was in track. It made sense with what he knew of her, and even more with the snippets of information he had discovered with his research on a certain taiji-ya over the last day and a half. He didn't really expect to see her standing around hurling massive boomerangs...if that was even humanly possible, this Sango person must have had a hell of a set of muscles...but if she was Sango, then training and physical activity would fit with the bits of information he felt was 'right' about the _Tale of Inuyasha_. Note one: never upset a taiji-ya without being on her good side first.

He'd checked out two different versions of the story from the university library, and had spent most of yesterday reading through them and making notations about interesting parts to share with Senrei. The stories were fairly similar in their content; the main points were in agreement with each other, as though the two versions stemmed from the same source, but had changed during the centuries since. Which was logical. If the story was originally spread by word of mouth and rumor, assuming these people in some form actually had existed, then it was natural for there to be variations. Both versions claimed Miroku had a curse, both said it was placed on him directly. If the story was told by an impartial person outside the group, it could be seen that the group's monk constantly carried a rosary as physical evidence of a rumored curse. How and where he got it, however, were up to speculation, and was more prone to being incorrect.

His palm itched, and he scratched it, absently pushing his glasses further up his nose. He was cursed. Why? How? The versions in the books were too short, and lacked far, far too many details. His dreams of the night previous swam with faces, some menacing, some kind. He couldn't name them, but he knew it had to do with the Tale. None of them settled down long enough for him to grasp, other than the constant, wide eyed look of Senrei. Sango. Her.

What bothered him more than almost anything else was the question of why. Why, if this was for real, was he remembering it now? Why not a year ago? Two years ago? A decade in the future? Yes, he met Senrei and maybe that triggered it, but the images, though faded and indistinct, were so pervading. Little habits he had always had now bothered him and reminded him of someone else. When he'd been studying, he sat at one of the library tables and rubbed his palm absently while he thought. His right palm. And this 'wind curse' was supposedly located in a hand, by the sound of things, whatever it actually was. Coincidence? Maybe. He made a fist. He, Haiboku, was not cursed. He had a mother and father and nobody had laid any jinxes on his family last he knew. He was tempted to call home and ask, but his parents would think he was either crazy or making some kind of weird joke. Probably the latter. Then they'd ask him about his grades and if he was eating right.

He glanced around as he rounded the corner of the school building and finally noticed the track ring. A group of girls in red and yellow gym uniforms were standing at the far end, but close enough for him to have a good vantage point from the side of the building. Leaning up against the brick, he folded his arms and watched the girls for awhile, realizing the practice was running unintentionally late. The group was milling around in a circle of unidentifiable long legs and bouncy ponytails, some chattering, others doing some stretches on the ground. Then the sea of bare legs parted, and in the middle he found Senrei standing, back to him but her face turned to the side as she held something in front of her that he couldn't see, and her words didn't carry far enough to him to understand what she was demonstrating to the rest of the group. Whatever it was must have been of interest, because several heads perked up and the girls stopped talking to listen.

She reached out with her left hand, slowly, pointing forward towards the far end of the track ring, her right arm tucked up under her and carrying a flat, black object. Senrei braced herself then as the girls scrambled back, winding herself up, bending her knees and and lowering herself for what looked to be a powerful throw. Her body shifted and rotated, spinning around and whipping forward the flat object Haiboku finally realized was a discus.

Hir...something. What? Damn. Hirai...boomerang. Sango. Discus. Flying. Sailing. Returning, fighting, flying? No, Sango couldn't fly, why was she so high up in his memory? Blurry. No wings. Fire? Why would there be fire? The discus thumped against the ground hard and flat, biting a clod of grass out of the ground inside the track, and Senrei stood up, talking again and pointing towards where her throw landed. The other girls seemed either thrilled at the sight, exclaiming about it amongst themselves, or amazed, simply staring at the distance the heavy object had been hurled. Track team, huh? He'd imagined running.

The sound of approaching applause silenced the group of girls, and a high set of giggling rippled shyly through them as they noticed who their audience was. Mainly a male, not a teacher, and older. More than enough reason to break into a giggle fit. Senrei looked up to see who interrupted her, and realized it was Haiboku, walking across the grass with an appreciative smile on his face. "That was great, Senrei," he smiled, casually tucking his hands into his pockets and basking in the attention of the group around her. Another ripple ran through the group at the informal way he addressed their fearless leader, hushed whispers of speculation already percolating in their gossipy minds.

Senrei was fighting back a blush formed from pleasure at the compliment and embarrassment at the fact she had completely lost her group's attention. She gathered herself together again, and glanced skyward, realizing how much time had passed. "It's that late already?"

Haiboku nodded, not even needing to look at his watch. Senrei sighed and clapped her hands together, herding the other girls into action. "Okay, everyone, that's it for today. If anyone's interested in discus, we'll talk about it at next practice. Hit the showers. And don't forget to take in the equipment," she gestured towards a few low hurdles that were clustered near a storage shed. A few groans sounded up; the miniature soap opera of an upperclassman's life had ended for the day. Two girls headed out to fetch in the discus while the rest milled towards the equipment or towards the school to clean up, slowly leaving Senrei and Haiboku alone.

"It's a rebuilding year," Senrei told him quietly as the girls left. "We've kept a strong team, but our seniors graduated and we're a bit bottom heavy now." She clasped her hands together. "I didn't realize how late it was getting. Sorry."

He shrugged, and smiled. "It's not that important. We should hurry a bit though, if we want to catch the old man at the store before it closes for the night."

"Did you find anything?"

His hands slipped from his pockets and he looked at their backs, turning them over slowly as expecting some blemish to form there, to signify some curse. "A little. I was cursed, and you threw boomerangs. Or a boomerang. Something big."

Senrei followed the last two girls with her eyes, watching them close up the shed. They'd been the ones to grab the discus, and were jogging towards the lockers, laughing about something. She was strong; she'd always been good. First girl picked on the sports teams, at least when they played baseball. She'd pitch. Never a perfect game, but she'd strike out more than the average amateur. Swinging around and aiming for something in the distance brought a memory bubbling to the surface, a name without a real image. Incoherent. Her lips drew into a thin line and her brows pinched together. "Hirai...kotsu. That's what it was called. Hiraikotsu."

She seemed pale, and he leaned around to look at her face, finding her eyes distant. "Sango? Are you all right?"

A tiny, firm nod. "Yeah. I just have this bad feeling, is all." She hugged her arms, holding onto the fabric of the long sleeves and feeling the chill against the skin of her legs. "So you did make some headway?"

"It seems like you did too. I can tell you my half in the car if you want."

She took a deep breath, looking up at him and brushing a bit of loose hair from her eyes. It was sticky from sweat. "Sounds good. Give me ten minutes and I'll meet you...you're in the parking lot? The front?"

"Yeah. I'll wait there. Go take your shower and get dressed."

Senrei gave him a sideways look as she turned to go, hoping that polite smile wasn't particularly lecherous at the moment. Still, she melted a little, relaxing. The tension of half remembered memories seemed to ease a bit, knowing she wasn't alone in this. He, at least, was as crazy as she was.

She jogged across the parking lot a little while later, the loafers of her green, white and red school uniform tapping lightly as she ran on her toes, leather case in hand and filled with books. Senrei had left her hair down, combing it out to let it dry more quickly. Haiboku was where he promised, leaning against the hood of his car waiting, arms folded and looking off towards the declining sun. At the sound of her approaching footsteps, he turned and smiled, bowing slightly to give a particularly gentlemanly greeting.

"Ready to go?" Senrei asked as she arrived, glad one of the two of them seemed unworried about all this, at least. He already had her door open, and she arched an eyebrow. "I have hands that function," she smiled, only half serious as she slid into her seat. "I can get it myself."

"You may have hands that function, but I don't believe I did," he returned, leaning over the door to catch her surprised look. "I don't think I was a cripple, but I'd really like to know what in the world a 'wind curse' is."

Senrei couldn't help but look at his hands, draped over the edge of the car's window, resisting the urge to reach out, touch them, and make sure they were solid. "Your books mentioned that too?" He nodded, backing away and shutting the door for her, walking around to his side with a slightly more serious expression. A moment later, the keys were in the ignition and they were on their way downtown. "What did you find?"

Haiboku sighed, pulling into traffic. "I'm a houshi. Why that doesn't surprise me I have no idea. We already figured you were a taiji-ya, before really reading anything at all."

"I know all that from reading the story the shopkeeper gave me." Senrei opened up her case and slipped out the compilation of fairy tales from where she had tucked it between her chemistry book and her English homework. "Four of us, you, a houshi with a some sort of wind curse, whatever that means, me, a taiji-ya who apparently throws giant boomerangs, a traveling miko named Kagome from some foreign land, and Inuyasha, a half inuyoukai. That feels about right but something's still kind of off about it."

"Why? Think we're missing someone?"

She glanced at him, then the road again, running her hand over the book. "I get that feeling, but I think, if this is really for real, we're missing a lot of someones. Twelve pages in a fairy tale book isn't much to go by, if this was real in some way. Did you find anything else? Longer versions?" Her look was hopeful, and Haiboku could see it out of the corner of his eye as he flipped on his turn signal.

"Stories get whittled down, so I've got to agree with that. I can't remember what anyone other than you looked like though," he gave a slight laugh. "We must sound like kids, being so serious. But no, both versions I found in the library were about the same. You'll be happy to know the shorter of the two properly identified you as a taiji-ya though."

She flipped open the book to the now well thumbed first page of the Tale of Inuyasha. "That's a relief, I guess. A taiji-ya who throws boomerangs called hiraikotsu. I remember that. And I remember you," she said, then thought about that for a moment, shaking her head and reminding herself to stop letting her imagination get the best of her. She probably remembered Miroku because he was standing right in front of her, nothing else. If Kagome or Inuyasha suddenly popped up, the result would surely be the same. "Probably because you're here now," she added quickly. "I wonder if we'll be able to recognize others...I mean, if there even are any others...oh! There's a shortcut this way down the side street, turn right," she pointed, directing him down an alley. With a quick swerve, they avoided a large chunk of lingering rush hour traffic, emptying out onto another, more familiar road.

Haiboku thought about that for awhile. Others. Friends? Family? Or enemies? In the story, the Shikon no Tama had been broken, the pieces gathered by the story's villain, someone by the name of Naraku. To him that suggested a quest story, and quests usually ran longer than the space of twelve pages. Too short a quest and the story was dull and unheroic, without establishing any of the points of plot or reinforcing the social mores of the culture...if you wanted to look at it from a literary perspective. Twelve pages was a synopsis, not an epic. He wondered what his family was like in that past; definitely not like what it was now, whatever social strata Miroku had lived in. He glanced at Sango for a moment, sitting next to him and looking out the front window, then back at the road.

"That's probably why we're headed back to the _Fox Hole_, isn't it? To find out if this is for real...or if there are others. If there's two of us, there could be more. Have you ever met anyone you thought was familiar even though you didn't know them?"

Senrei ran through a mental list of people she knew. That was just the problem, though. They were _people she knew_. It was the shock of instant familiarity with Miroku that began to bring these fluid memories into her mind, and if she knew them already, why would she be surprised to know them? Her father or brother could be someone from the past; anyone from the past, friend or foe. She could have an aunt or uncle who she knew before. She had friends at school that she'd known since kindergarten. Why be surprised to know any of them?

"Not really, no," she decided at last, shutting the book in her lap and tightening her grip on it. "I just hope that man knows something, one way or another. Laugh and tell us we're crazy or explain what's going on." Senrei wrinkled her nose. "You know, we never did catch his name."

"Huh, you're right," Haiboku realized aloud, grinning as he pulled into the plaza that held the series of antique shops, parking by the cafe again. "Maybe he's our Naraku person and we should watch out."

Senrei rolled her eyes at him as she fumbled for the seatbelt buckle. "That's not funny, Miroku. Besides, that Naraku person wasn't even supposed to be human. He was probably demonized to make the story scarier to listeners."

"Probably," Haiboku shrugged, not done teasing quite yet. "Though we wouldn't need a taiji-ya on the team if there really weren't youkai, you know."

Senrei just shot him a droll look and stepped out of the car, tucking the borrowed book under her arm as she slammed the door to a close and stepped up onto the pavement. The smell of the cafe's fresh baked bread melted through the air warmly, comfortingly. The remaining sweat in her hair had dried out on the trip over. She'd wash it later, but now she wished she had a chance to comb it up into a ponytail again. So much more comfortable. But right now, the stained glass door of the antique shop loomed ominously, and feeling Haiboku's hand slip into hers was surprisingly reassuring.

The bells above the door chimed brightly to announce their entrance.

* * *

We're off to meet the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz...

Nevermind me. ::cough:: Anyway, mostly setup this time, obviously with the great spot I chose to stop the chapter at this time around. ^^;

Yup, Rin and Sesshoumaru are here too...their parts aren't particularly large, but they are here, regardless. I was trying to imagine Rin in the modern era, and her bright face popped up right away, looking much older than in the series...nobody minds, I hope? ^.^ Rin turned up rather gifted...I was trying to imagine what Sesshoumaru would do if he found her reincarnate again in the modern era...I'm sure Sesshoumaru is highly intelligent, but somehow, I just couldn't see him being overly creative with a new name...the mini-scene of finding her again went something like this in my head:  
Sesshoumaru: It is Rin's reincarnation. Therefore, I shall name her- Rin.

Jaken isn't around...why? There really wasn't a place for him in the fic. I could stick him in at the end, but it really would just be superfluous...so Jaken's part got cut. Besides, I think Hisho-san would probably swat him with a broom. ^.~  
Til next time.  
~Queen


	5. An Old Friend Appears

_Good Karma_

_

* * *

_

_Chapter 4- An Old Friend Appears, and, Kagura Meets Kouga- Again_

The bells above the door chimed brightly to announce their entrance, and the slightly nervous pair stepped into the organized clutter inside the antique shop. It had changed very little since they'd been there last. A stack of oblong boxes were piled on the inside of the door to be received, packing peanuts scattered around where one of the boxes had burst. A cascade of kites were spread out across the glass cases, creating a dim display of colorful cloth and paper, ribbony tails trailing down the side haphazardly.

It was then that Senrei noticed what had replaced the kites, previously hung in the rafters. On the ceiling hung, to her surprise, a giant boomerang.

Senrei's gasp and tensed hand made Haiboku realize there was more to the change in decor, and he followed her gaze, eyes narrowing at the sight. This smacked of planning, deliberate planning. First the book, following...a shakujou. A shakujou for a houshi that he had been. Now a hiraikotsu for a worried looking taiji-ya. What the hell did this old man think he was trying to pull? He tore his eyes from the boomerang and looked around the empty store. Other than the boxes, the boomerang and the pile of kites, everything was the same. The same jumble of weaponry, books and clothing. The same glass cases and the same fluorescent lights illuminating them. The same old shakujou illuminated under those fluorescent lights. No one was there. "Hello?" he shouted, projecting his voice so that it would be heard everywhere. It echoed off the wooden floor and walls. "Is anyone here? Hello?"

A moment later, there was the sound of quick footsteps from the backroom, and the beaded curtain that hung in the back of the store was swept aside as the old manager shuffled forward, a smile on his scraggly face. "Ah! You came back already!" he clapped as he rasped his way along behind the counter, pale blue eyes twinkling from under little pouches of skin. "I was just warming up some dinner, didn't expect you back so soon. I thought you'd take at least a week. But I guess this is better, anyway."

"Who are you?" Haiboku demanded, not particularly in the mood for elderly rambling. The old man drew up short at the sharpness, frowning slightly then he didn't seem to care.

"Talk about direct," he shrugged, leaning up against the back of the counter easily, putting his chin in one hand. The other he held out towards Senrei, palm up and gesturing her over. "I'd like my book back, thanks." Senrei glared a bit suspiciously, and extended it out slowly, touching only the furthest end, almost as though expecting him to try to grab her wrist and pull her over for some evil purpose. Once the volume was safely in the age spotted hands, it was deftly tucked under the cash register. He lifted his shaggy eyebrows sweetly, badly in need of a trim. "Like the story, Sango?"

"It was..." she blanched, realizing what he'd just called her. Then she began to get angry. Was this guy just playing around with them? She could feel Haiboku releasing her hand and tensing alongside her as well; they'd come to ask questions, maybe get answers, or get laughed out of the store. The old man's tone was different this time, like a kid with a big secret he was dying to tell, but was having entirely too much fun seeing someone else squirm to tell it. She tried not to clench her teeth as she repeated Haiboku's question. "Who are you?"

A small smile. "You sure you want to know?"

Senrei and Haiboku glanced at each other warily. "Yes."

"Great!" the old man declared happily, face splitting into a grin as he leapt up onto the counter in a move no old man could possibly manage. "I knew you'd come around, just not this fast. It's great though, good timing!" He waved a hand, and there was a sharp clicking sound as the front door locked itself and the tie holding back a curtain loosed, letting the drapery sweep across the front window, cloaking the inside of the store from the street's view. Worried already, Haiboku and Senrei backed up rapidly at these events, finding that in the tight space they couldn't move much. They bumped into a display case and sent a rack of swords tottering, various expressions of surprise flickering across their faces.

The old man was searching the pockets of his quilted vest, and produced a small green leaf, beaming happily the whole time. Then, abruptly, the leaf exploded, and with a large poof of hazy blue-grey smoke, an entirely different person hopped down from off the top of the counter, landing neatly on his bare feet. Senrei and Haiboku stared; where once had been an extremely eccentric, stooped old man with wild white hair, now stood a fairly tall, slender, young man, dressed in blue hakama and gi, with auburn hair and blue eyes, looking extremely proud of himself and grinning like there was no tomorrow.

He also had a long, bushy tail, pointed ears, claws, and, due to the smile, a fairly obvious set of fangs.

Senrei reacted a half second before Haiboku did, grabbing one of the swords from the display rack behind her. "Monster!"

The newly revealed youkai yelped in surprise at the sudden charge, trying to back away first, but was immediately reminded he was standing right in front of the cash register when a determined looking former taiji-ya charged at him with a hundred year old katana from the Meiji, obviously looking like she wanted to do some damage. "Gyah! Sango! Stop it!" he rolled aside, the wooden sheath crashing down onto the counterspace he'd just vacated. She turned with a swipe to the side, following him as he skittered backward, and he could see Miroku leaping forward at the same time, clearly with the intention of trying to back up his partner. He had his own katana now, and was fumbling with the tie holding the steel inside the wooden sheath. He ducked another swing from Sango, groaning internally. Of all the stupid things they could have done...

Blue fire exploded around Miroku at the same time Sango found her hastily chosen weapon of choice stopped by the set of claws the 'monster' had, the creature frowning intensely, and forcing her back with sheer strength. She tried to ignore the blossom of light from behind her, but when, from the corner of her eye, she saw Haiboku frantically waving his arms and kicking his legs, but only achieving a peaceful float in lazy circles, unable to get his feet on the ground, she felt the katana ripped from her hands, sending her staggering to the side, holding herself up against the counter, knocking over the pile of kites and sending them cascading to the floor. She looked up frantically, half expecting to see the monster that killed the store owner to be coming after her, since it had already trapped Haiboku. Instead, it was staring at her, looking like it was a bit disappointed, a bit amused, and a bit annoyed all at once. He glanced down at the sword in his hands.

"This was one of my favorite acquisitions, you know? I got it during the revolution. Now look, the sheath's all cracked," he sighed, leaving Sango to stare open mouthed at the casualness of it all. He looked up again, strolled over to Miroku, who was staring as much as Sango was, and held up his hand. "May I please have that one back now before you break it? I try to take good care of these kinds of things."

Miroku continued to stare. The youkai took this as a yes, reached into the blue fire, and pried the antique katana out of the human's shell shocked fingers. As soon as he turned away, the fire evaporated, and Miroku stumbled to the ground, never taking his eyes off the resident non-human, now uprighting the wooden display and placing the swords carefully back where they belonged. Fangs. Claws. Period-piece, traditional clothing. Auburn hair in a top knot, tied with thin blue ribbon. And of course, a floor length fluffy tail. Not human. Definitely not human. It was...a youkai. A real youkai. Standing not more than an armslength away. A youkai. A living, breathing youkai. "You're...a...uh..." Haiboku's mind suddenly went completely blank as to the right term, and he spat out the first that came into his head. "A tanuki?"

The youkai froze, turning and looking like he'd just been crushed. "Tanuki?" He gave an enormous sigh, closing his eyes in disappointment. "Miroku, you're the one who was friends with Hachi. You know what tanuki look like. I'm a kitsune." He motioned at his face, as though mimicking a mask. "Kitsune." The disappointed look increased. "You really don't remember me, do you?"

Haiboku shook his head no.

The kitsune frowned, hanging his head. "You know, omitting me from those condensed versions is really pathetic. I was there the whole time. I did important stuff too, and what do I get?" he snorted. "Nothing. Inuyasha this, Inuyasha that, the big bully," he rubbed his head as though remembering something, then gave up. "Oh well." He seemed to notice that the two humans were still staring at him, though had managed to close their mouths. "Eh, er, sorry about all that. You know, I've spent better than four hundred years wondering what to say to you guys if I found you again, and I thought a big grand entrance would be kind of fun, but I never thought you'd try to kill me," he told them, finally starting to realize the awkwardness of their position. "Yeesh, we're practically family."

That made the two human's eyes bug out. "Well," the kitsune elaborated, waving his hands quickly to dispel any more panicked thoughts, "not literally. I know I've grown up over the last five centuries, but how many kitsune did you know?" He leaned forward as though expecting them to change their minds. "You two sure you don't remember me?"

"Pretty sure..." Haiboku trailed, followed up by Senrei asking, a little uncertainly,

"Who are you? And what did you do with the old man? The shopkeeper?"

"Who?" The kitsune blinked, then chuckled, pointing at himself. "Oh! I'm the old man. I took the surname of Minamino a century ago since everyone was picking names back then, and started dealing in antiques about thirty years or so back now. I had a lot of junk I'd collected, so I thought I'd do something with it. According to government files, I should be Minamino Shippou the fifth. I just keep turning up as my own son or grandson every couple decades. Makes it easier."

"Shippou?" Senrei repeated, noticing the long tail.

"Yup," he grinned proudly, flicking his tail around for good effect. "My dad named me that."

Haiboku finally started straightening himself up, Senrei following suit as the two of them edged closer together, the kitsune leaning up against one of the counters and smiling again, now that no one was trying to beat him to death with a sheathed sword. "So, you...have a father...around here?" Senrei asked, trying to figure out exactly what was going on and the possible number of youkai that were in the area.

The smile faded a bit, at he looked at the floor. "Well, no...not anymore. Dad was killed a long time ago. Inuyasha helped me get vengeance for him though," he finished stoutly, looking defiant with a fist upraised. "Justice was served."

Senrei was still trying to figure out how any of this was possible. Yes, she and Haiboku had theorized that they'd existed in some strange old fairy tale, but she was damn sure neither of them expected to walk into an antiques store and meet a living breathing kitsune who was definitely not a strange old human man. He clearly seemed to know about this story, and though she still didn't know whether to believe him or not, the simple fact that he _had a tail_ stood as pretty solid evidence that this was actually happening. If he was here...were there more youkai, too? She'd have to just ask bluntly, since the indirect approach failed. "So...ah, Minamino-san, are there more-"

She got about that far before he burst into laughter, staring for an instant before howling hard enough to double over. Senrei and Haiboku backed away a bit, startled at the sudden outburst. He began wiping tears from his eyes after a minute of this, trying hard to shake his head and calm down. "Sorry, really...just...one of you being that formal...I grew up listening to 'Shippou-chan' and now it's 'Minamino-san'? You've got to be kidding me!" He chuckled a few more times and seemed to finish, waving a hand. "Shippou. Just Shippou. No more -chan stuff, but definitely not Minamino-san. I don't think I could take it. Somewhere in my head I still think of you guys as older than me." The smile faded a bit, and Shippou remembered Sango and Miroku when they were the age of the two people standing before him. He also remembered them old and grey, living out their lives in the old village. How much did they remember, if they didn't remember him at all? He tilted his head to the side and watched them carefully, hoping maybe he could gauge what they knew. Obviously not as much as he hoped. "If you don't remember me yet...what _do _you remember?"

They looked at each other awkwardly, slowly starting to relax. The kitsune- Shippou- wasn't acting like he intended to kill them, and he was the only one with any real information about what the heck was going on. Haiboku shifted from foot to foot, still looking a little suspiciously at their host, but going ahead with his portion of the story. "I met her brother a few weeks ago in class. We got to be friends, and I met Sango when I went to her house. I remember she had a large weapon," he glanced at the suspended boomerang overhead, "and we managed to put together that it was called hiraikotsu. I had a curse," he frowned at his right hand, "and the books said it had something to do with wind. It itches and gives me a bad feeling, but that's all. My name was Miroku."

Shippou was nodding thoughtfully. That was barely the surface of his memories, but he did have a few of the more important points down. If Miroku had thought he was Inuyasha for some reason, Shippou didn't know what he'd do. Probably keel over laughing, but that was beside the point. He was calling Sango, Sango, which hopefully meant she was probably calling him Miroku. The few memories he had so far were early ones from the beginning of their journey...he wondered if either of them realized the reason why they were being so informal with each other yet. He suppressed a grin. Hmm, he'd have to jog their memories a little bit. It'd be fun watching that.

His blue eyes switched from Haiboku to Senrei, who had also relaxed, but was still within armslength of some of the old weaponry. Still leery of him. "You have any memories, Sango?"

Her lips twitched into an uncertain frown, and she nodded slowly. "A few. My name was Sango. I threw that," she motioned towards the boomerang again, "and I was a taiji-ya." Her brows drew together. "I think I had a pet cat."

Shippou smiled faintly, and Senrei reminded herself that he was not going to try to bite her with those fangs. Which really didn't seem so large, when she thought about it. And even though he had a tail, it probably would have been really cute when he was a kid. Kid? She tried to remember what she was saying again. "Well, I came home from school a few days ago and Miroku and onii-chan were in the living room." She looked at Miroku, catching his eyes, and Shippou watched them smile at each other. "I remembered Miroku, though I don't know why, exactly."

"Hm, so you remember the groping then, too?"

Sango blinked. "The...what?"

Miroku paled.

Shippou shrugged carelessly, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. "You know, the groping. Miroku had this really big wandering hands problem." He stared at her wide eyed. "Don't tell me you haven't remembered his infamous pick up line either?"

Miroku began waving his hands frantically in a vain attempt to get Shippou to shut the hell up. He didn't really remember doing any of that...kind of. Oh shit, he _did_ remember doing that. And Sango apparently remembered it too, because she was recovering from her shock. Then she was turning an interesting shade of red. Then she whirled on him. "You _groped_ me?"

"Eh, I'm sure it was just...an isolated incident, Sango..."

Shippou snorted, biting his lip to keep himself from laughing out loud. He remembered Sango's expression perfectly. It was there right now, that outraged, embarrassed, blushing look. Now all they needed was a handprint on Miroku's cheek. "Yeah, lots of isolation out there in the sengoku jidai woods..."

"Shippou!"

_Smack._

Sango seethed, fists clenched as she shouted. "I can't believe you did that! And more than once! How could you do that to me?"

Miroku lightly poked at the red slapmark on his face, then dryly turned to Shippou. "Be glad you are not a chibi anymore."

Shippou's face finally broke into a full fledged, sunny smile. "I knew you'd remember me!" he cheered happily. "Besides," he added, looking between them, "I'm just trying to help you two remember things. Can't have Sango off her guard," he winked, and Sango's glower eased a little. It was a weird way of trying to be helpful, she guessed.

"I'll help you remember even more," Shippou promised, leaning over the counter and looking around the floor. "It's a long story, and I've only got a lot of guesses as to why you guys are remembering things now. But considering what day it is, I think I'm mostly right. Things are turning around full circle."

"Full circle?" Sango repeated, still eying Miroku a little suspiciously. He had a despairing look on his face.

"Yeah," he confirmed, frowning at the lack of whatever he was looking for, and turned back to them. "Do you remember Kagome at all yet?"

"She was the traveling miko, in the stories we found," Miroku supplied, trying to see if he could conjure a face, but all he managed was to imagine Sango running around in her short school uniform and dreamily calling to him. Sango wore a lot more clothes in the sengoku jidai. She noticed him staring at her legs, and glared at him, causing another depressed sigh. "I don't remember what she looked like though."

Shippou arched an eyebrow, noticing the little interplay of Miroku's sudden interest in Sango's uniform. "Actually, I don't think you're as far off as you think. Sango, you look like you're out of middle school, right?"

She nodded, not really following. "What does Kagome have to do with my being out of middle school?"

"Because Kagome's still in middle school," Shippou explained, much to the confusion of the other two. "A 9th year, and you apparently are in the same district, judging by the looks of your uniform. You're in the high school, so you may not have met her. Higurashi Kagome, who lives at the Higurashi Jinja a few blocks from here. I set up the store where I did so I could keep an eye on things. Kagome's fifteenth birthday is in about a week. That _Tale of Inuyasha_ story you guys read will start on that day. Or at least the real version of it."

Haiboku and Senrei stared at him, and Miroku managed to recover first. "Are you trying to tell us that Kagome is from this time? Because last I heard, time travel still only existed in science fiction manga."

"Fantasy, too," Shippou corrected expertly. "Kagome has the Shikon no Tama inside her. She'll be pulled through the closed up old well on her shrine's grounds, and end up freeing Inuyasha on the other side. Eventually, I'll join the group after it gets shattered, and then the two of you."

The confused looks remained.

Shippou sighed, folding his arms and trying to set himself into storytelling mode. "Kagome is a time traveling miko, not just a traveling one. She always told us she was from Tokyo...when I heard the name of Edo had been changed, I recognized it and moved here to wait and see what happened; besides, Kyoto was dangerous for awhile," he shuddered. "A lot of orders for youkai to be massacred came from there after the shogunate was formed. This land was for the humans," he said quietly, as though repeating some old catch phrase, and at the most serious Sango or Miroku had seen him in this little span of time. "Anyway," he managed after a moment, "It's a nice place to live. I started selling some of my old collection here, with a few exceptions," he glanced towards the shakujou in the glass case, and the boomerang hanging above their heads. "I found out the family running one of the local jinja was named Higurashi. Kagome's family. I always wondered if any of you would find each other again," he told them, relief coloring his words, "or if I'd ever see any of you again. I guessed that if you did ever remember the past, you'd come looking for it." He waved a hand at the store. "Museums, antique shops...placed where old things can be found. Links to the past. It was a bet, and I'm glad it paid off," he finished, satisfied with the tale.

"Um, Shippou," Sango asked hesitantly, and he looked at her. "People...don't usually remember past lives...why would we be different?"

Shippou looked like a teacher who had just been asked a particularly astute question from a student. "To be perfectly honest, I don't really know. But my guess is that things are going around again- the story is starting over. This time and the sengoku jidai run parallel to each other, from what I remember Kagome telling me. A day here is a day there. They're connected. So you're connected. And the closer the two times come to running alongside each other," he held his clawed hands up, facing each other, then closed them. "The more connected the people involved become." He shrugged. "A theory, the best I've got. But that's it. A theory."

Sango exhaled a deep breath. It was already insane, but if there was a living, breathing youkai in front of her, she was willing to accept the next most impossible thing; time travel. She was either nuts or it was real. Evidence, weirdly enough, seemed to be leaning towards the latter.

"I remember you now, Shippou," Miroku spoke up slowly, thoughtfully, "and I remember Sango, and I have a vague idea about Inuyasha and Kagome...but there were more people we knew back then. You don't just meet three or four other people in a lifetime. Is there anyone else? Like us?" He paused, reluctantly using the word, "Reincarnated?"

Shippou shook his head. "You're the first two I've met. Which was great, you came in a duo, and you were the ones I wanted to find, but yeah, it's possible there may be more people out there."

"Like who?"

Shippou thought about that for a moment. "Well, a lot of people...um, Kaede, maybe. Finding her would be good." He scratched his head and thought hard for a moment, recognizing how difficult it was. "This is kind of sad, trying to remember the few friends we really had. Um, we were friends with the wolf youkai, more or less...I don't know if Kouga and them made it through the bad times though..." he trailed, very quiet. "A lot of us died. It sounds strange to say, but no matter how powerful a youkai is..." he looked past them and towards the closed drapery of the window, "humans always found a way to fight back. Eventually they found a way that worked." His eyes slid downward, and under the window was a very tiny display of very old firearms, a handful of battered bullets displayed with them. "If you wanted to live, you hid. So contact is hard." He grimaced. "I bumped into Sesshoumaru a century or so ago though. He's still alive someplace."

"Sesshoumaru?" Haiboku prompted, trying to recall the name. It felt familiar, but again, the face blurred in his mind.

There was a short laugh from the kitsune, who rolled his eyes. "They cut out just about everyone except you four and Naraku from the stories by this era, didn't they? Probably pissed him off to no end that he was excluded. Or maybe not- looking at Sesshoumaru's like looking at a sheet of blank paper. Nothing," he snapped his fingers irritably, snorting. "He's probably living off a few hundred years of riches someplace."

"Not exactly a friend, I take it?" Miroku asked, taking note of the way Shippou referred to the different people. The names were all vaguely familiar, but none of them brought images to his mind. With luck, the faces would return; it was talking to Shippou that would bring many of them back, and with more ease than trying to patch scraps of things together with Sango. He wanted to know more, now, if all this were true. He also wanted to know how well he used to avoid that really stinging smack Sango could lay on him.

Outside, a roll of thunder sounded through the heavens, echoing off the buildings as they began to hum from newly sleeting rain. Through the drapery, light flashed and another peal of thunder was audible. Light splattering sounds reached their ears as the first drops hit the glass pane of the outside window, and a second wave of thunder rattled the glass. Shippou sighed, shaking his head at the storm. The clouds had been grey for awhile; there was water on the wind.

"No, not a friend, exactly. It's raining, and I was about to warm up a tv dinner when you came in. I don't have much in the back, but we've got a lot of talking to do," he began looking behind the counter again, fruitlessly. "I thought I had a folding chair up here, but I guess not. There's some in the back. Boxes too, to sit on. I know you have to have a lot more questions. I've been waiting five hundred years, give or take a couple decades, to meet up with you all again...I've got a pot of coffee, too...store's closed for today already. Why don't we sit down?"

And, feeling much more at ease with a person who readily admitted he was a youkai, they did.

* * *

Wriggling her toes, Mai looked admiringly at the little paint job she had just completed, now that her feet were propped up on a pillow she'd placed on the coffee table in her living room. She'd gotten a bit tired of her own little palette of nail polishes, and had broken into Kagami's almost non-existant stash. She had some silvery stuff from a year ago; it'd go bad if nobody ever used it, and Mai was pretty sure Kagami had only used it once. She'd do her nails later, if she felt like it, but she really did need to concentrate on her stupid homework. Procrastinating didn't get her too far, considering she had already spent time doodling costumes on her notebook paper. It did sound like an interesting project, she supposed. Did they have satin in sixteenth century Britain? Or Italy, for that matter. An elegant Juliet would look fabulous at the masquerade scene in it, maybe with a firebird mask; an empire waistline, a brilliant, silky vermillion color to stand out against the paler colors of the other attendees. Maybe some brocade? Crimson was a good color for a passionate, romantic story's heroine. Color of love and all that kind of stuff.

She glanced down at the notebook in her lap and sighed, picking up the play again, but looking past them to check her doodles for the hundredth time. Maybe a blue color for the Montague family, then, for contrast? Hm, maybe the deepest shade of blue, indigo, to play off the bloody vermillion shade she was leaning towards for the Capulets. The darkest, most vibrant hues for the title characters, paler versions of the same colors for lesser characters. She'd have to find that craft store onee-chan mentioned yesterday. Scraps of cloth wouldn't cost much...she'd have to color in her pencil sketches and put them on unlined drawing paper for the stupid project. Should it go into a binder or should she just paste it onto some posterboard?

Flipping the page, she began to read again, trying to figure out what was going on in this scene. The Montagues were crashing the party, and loverboy and lovergirl were trying to figure out who they each were. Mai leaned back on the squishy couch, burying herself between a pair of oversized pillows. Stupid feuding families. What were they even fighting over, anyway? She rolled her eyes and concentrated on the Nurse's lines. "_His name is Romeo and a Montague,/ The only son of your great enemy."_

Too bad they couldn't manage to elope somewhere safely. Juliet was all cooped up in her castle or palace or wherever it was she was trapped up in, because of her father's asinine fight...she rubbed her forehead irritably. Stop it. Humans don't have red eyes. Her father was a human, of course. What else would he be? She twitched, trying to ignore the faint pressure of a headache. Did they have any aspirin in the bathroom? Probably. Switching her attention to the page again, she glared at it, determined, continuing with Juliet's response, hoping that her dismissal of the pain would make it go away.

_"My only love sprung from my only hate!_  
_Too early seen unknown, and known too late!_  
_Prodigious birth of love it is to me_  
_That I must love a loathed enemy."_

Mai tilted her head to the side. Romeo must have been unbelievably sexy for Juliet to fall for him that fast. Maybe she should put him in black leather pants. Considering the popularity of having random men fall in love with helpless fair maidens in romantic literature, it really wasn't surprising Romeo was head over heels with Juliet. Mai'd heard of the balcony scene, though she wasn't quite to that point yet. If either of them knew their fates, they'd have just run off there and then. Obligations to family, of course, intervene. Couldn't go and do just whatever they liked. Pity. Even though Juliet was another one of the helpless fair maidens, something Mai usually loathed, she couldn't help but pity her. Restrained, not able to do what she liked...not...free.

Rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand, she felt beads of sweat slick against her skin. It was getting really warm in here. Stuffy. A little nauseating. She set her book aside and headed to a window, opening it to let in some air. The wind blew wrongly; it swept along the street and not through the screen, making the grass ripple and the trees wave, bringing little fresh air to Mai, leaning against the windowsill and rubbing her forehead, willing the wind to her. The temperature was cool, but humid. Rain was coming. Red for the Capulets. Red as the eyes of the Capulet lord, with wavy black hair...she winced again, pressing her cheek against the wire screen and trying to breathe, wishing away the image of narrow, cruel eyes in the back of her mind, watching her. Dammit. Dammit. Why was this bothering her now? Her fingernails scraped a little at the mesh, tinny metallic noises running through the apartment for a moment. Poor Juliet, poor Juliet, unable to do as she pleased, always at the constraints of her cruel family, ordering her to do whatever they decide. And she dies, always dies, in the end of the story. Pathetic. But sad.

Freedom in death isn't really freedom at all.

Hopefully Juliet would get a karmic second chance.

Mai grit her teeth. She needed fresh air, and the wind was just whipping around the grasses aimlessly. She'd have to go out. Get her mind off of the play. Not having to deal with Shoukon that day must be getting on her nerves...sudden release of extreme stress or something. Not really hysteria, but...he had in school suspension that day, safely giving Mai a much needed break. Unfortunately, his taunting kept echoing in her head, mocking her with cruel little sounds of laughter. But deeper. Older. She kept hearing him make snide comments in the back of her imagination, criticizing every thought she had. It wasn't a headache...not a real headache. Just some air. She made a fist. Time to get out of the apartment. She was used to it being silent when Kagami-oneechan was at work, but she needed to be outside now, in the air, moving. Reading about Juliet dying because she couldn't escape her fate was just going to make her ill.

She stuffed her feet into open toe sandals and snatched her keys from off the waist high bookcase, her reflection dancing in the little mirrors Kagami decorated the apartment with. Mai could vaguely remember her sister once saying something about putting mirrors near doors keeping away bad spirits, but then onee-chan liked reading books about weird stuff like that. Probably some feng shui thing. A moment later, she was locking the door and descending the steps inside the complex, aiming for the outside.

The wind...it swept along, carrying with it the scent of fresh mown grass, the pleasant smell of the outdoors. Just being outside made her feel better; it cleared her head, breathing something clear, and simply moving, hearing the flipping of her sandals against her heels and the sidewalk. The red eyes that kept trying to peer into her little world faded away, and she began to unwind a little, feeling the feather in her headband fluttering frantically back and forth, tickling her cheek as it flapped. Away from the apartment complex, the neighborhood was filled with individual homes. She eventually found the source of the grassy smell; an old lady had a lawn mower out on her lawn, and was now weeding in the flower bed in the front of her house, several pinwheels inserted into the soft earth and spinning wildly in the lower winds. They creaked and swished in circles, going nowhere, plastic edges shining a little between the living plants. Mai walked on by, unseen, wandering forward and only absently realizing her distance. She had her keys, and it wasn't like she was leaving Tokyo. She'd be fine.

Shouting sounded up ahead as she rounded a corner, two boys on bicycles zooming around in circles in the street and trying to pop wheelies while a woman shouted at them to not run too far ahead; she and her stroller were falling behind, though she was moving along at a quick trot to keep up pace. Mai stepped silently to the side as she rushed past, eyes on her charges and not on any passerby. She sighed, looking across the street, unsurprise at where she'd ended up. Unless she wanted to head towards school, she'd have to end up here. The local playground, complete with a little merry-go-round, jungle gym and swing set attachment. Mai looked backward at the distance she'd walked over the last few minutes, then grimaced at her choice of shoes. They didn't hurt much yet, but flip flops are not exactly good exercise footwear. She'd better not get blisters or anything tomorrow. She glanced across the street again, then tentatively at the clouds, still working their way across the sky. A little break wouldn't be bad. She wouldn't have sore feet when she got home, the park wasn't padded with woodchips, and it had been ever so long since she'd been to one. Stupid nostalgia, getting the better of her.

The mother with her young family was long out of sight. She pursed her lips, checked the street, and darted across. Though there were a couple benches for adults around the pit, the swaying swings looked much more enticing. She wasn't that big, though she'd probably look a bit ungainly perched there, a teen instead of a toddler. She plopped down anyway, wrapping fingers around the chains. The swings were comfortable, the bendy rubber kind that were good for leaping off of in the middle of an upswing. Nobody was around. Parents, like that mom probably was, were herding children inside under ominous threat of a downpour. Mai didn't have a mom, so Mai didn't really care. She closed her eyes, but opened them against the darkness immediately. She had been too little to remember her mom taking her to a park. She just remembered how dark it was when momma died. And loud. Kagami-oneechan took her to playgrounds when she was little.

She'd been working a lot of late evenings lately. Mai'd just had leftovers for dinner, but there was still plenty left. Kagami had mentioned something about working late a lot lately, hoping to save some money for the summer, but Mai couldn't imagine it costing that much for a trip to the beach for a day. Then a pleasant thought came to her mind; maybe nee-chan was trying to save up for a week? A real vacation. The sea in the summer would be great...should she save up for a swimsuit? It wasn't past Kagami to come up with something as a surprise. She'd been working a lot the last couple months...something had to be up. Heh. Maybe she was right...if not, who knew what it was? Her mind leapt to other things. A car? Kagami wouldn't have to take the bus all the time, and they'd have real transportation...then in a couple years, Mai could take that car for her own, and Kagami could get a new one. Their apartment was already nice enough, they didn't need a new one, even if it was a bit snug.

She smiled, feeling the curve of the feather against her cheek, lifted away a moment later by a breeze. It was much better here, out in the air. She'd have her own big house someday. A gardener would take care of her flowers, of course, but she liked the old lady's house that she walked past earlier; a couple pinwheels to catch the wind would be nice. A beautiful big dogwood tree with fragrant blossoms that smelled like...she wrinkled her nose in sudden disgust. Cigarettes? Her eyes narrowed. Who the hell was the living ashtray?

It took her only a moment to see where the noxious odor was coming from. A pair of feet were sticking out above the edge of the big jungle gym, their owner apparently lying flat on one of the levels. No other pairs of feet or bodies seemed to be in range, so that was the only possible source of the stink. What a disgusting way to interrupt her nice quiet evening. Bastard. She stood up, annoyed, the chains of the swing rattling behind her as she stomped over towards the guy's head, flip flops sounding particularly non-threatening in the quiet.

"Oy! Put that stink out! This is a public place," she snapped, one fist on her hip, one holding on to the wood as she pulled herself up one of the bars of the jungle gym to look upside down into his face with her best glare. From that backwards position, she saw him arch an eyebrow, remove the cigarette, and blow smoke into her face. She coughed, waving a hand in front of her nose as her eyes watered.

"I was here first," he told her, bored. "Go somewhere else."

Her already irritated look grew a little more serious. Who the hell was he to tell her what to do? She had every right to be here. He had no right to be leaving cigarette butts all over the pavement. A little pile was already littering her feet. "Oh, is that so?" she asked, and if her caustic tone was any warning, it came too late. She snatched the cigarette out of his mouth, tossed it to the ground, and stomped on it before he could even begin to protest. When he managed to bolt upright and flip over, she was already storming off, back to the swings.

"That was my last one, you bitch!" he snarled, scrambling off of his platform awkwardly, the space too small for a nearly full grown teenage boy, tangled in the length of trenchcoat he was wearing.

"Good!" she snarled back as she dropped into the swing. "Then you don't have any reason to bother me anymore!" She turned her head sharply away, chin up, fully intending to keep herself that way until she heard him leave.

He hit the pebbly ground hard, finally untangling himself from his niche on the wooden planks, ducking around under one of the slides, not really sure what he should come back with, but not really caring. Some random bitchy girl just walked up to him, ripped his last cigarette out of his mouth, stomped on it, and stalked off? And only to the damned swings? What was that all about? For all she knew, he was some psycho murderer or something. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

She sniffed. "Nothing at all. My lungs aren't going to crystallize and rot out of my chest. Your smoking reeks," she shot at him, twisting in her seat to face him finally. "I don't like it. It bugs me. If you're going to continue, do it somewhere where it doesn't piss me off." She rolled her eyes as though explaining this to a particularly obstinate child.

He stared at her, remembering to keep his mouth from falling open. He couldn't think of the last time anyone had ever tried to tell him off about anything, much less someone he'd never even met, and who apparently had the brainless audacity to just throw that in his face.

She was glaring at him. "Are you going to just stand there and gaping at me or are you going to actually leave?"

"You're not the boss of me!" he shouted, then wanted to whack himself in the head. The first thing to pop into his head and out of his mouth was the comeback of a desperate second grader. What the hell was going on?

That particularly brilliant retort earned him an amused expression and a set of raised, perfectly refined eyebrows. "Hoh?" she laughed once, a sarcastic smile on her face. "Is that so?"

It was the sound of that laugh and the superior, scathing expression she wore that made him stop for a moment and look at her. A mass of shadows in the greyness, sitting on the swings and seeming perfectly content to argue with him, hands gripping the chains of the swing possessively. She was thin, with short black hair tied up in a headband of some sort; a solitary white feather contrasting sharply with the dark of her hair. It was the expression, though, and the laugh that he recognized, something that instantly put him on edge, making him wary. He'd seen her before. She wasn't in her school uniform anymore, and instead in a tank top and baggy grey sweatpants, but he remembered her from yesterday, when she stood outside the school and watched the fight his friend picked with that one guy. Her look was so...triumphant, for a moment, seeing the other guy in trouble. Happy. Then pained, like she was sick. He frowned a little, trying to decide whether this was good or not, and she noticed.

Sourly, suspiciously, "What?"

He gave her a guarded look. "I saw you yesterday. We're at the same school."

At that, she blinked, seemingly taken a bit off guard at the sudden switch in topic. Still, she recovered quickly, shrugging as she looked at him. When he last spoke, he'd drawn a little more out from under the slide, and she could see him better, cautiously looking him up and down. The usual boy's school uniform, solid black, long sleeves. An unbuttoned brown trenchcoat was hanging around him baggily, worn from use. He looked haphazard, between the old coat and shaggy black hair falling into his eyes, blue, curious. Yesterday, huh? So that was why he looked familiar. She pursed her lips, deciding not to push too much more. Yeah, he was bothering her, but she did, in a very, very minor way, owe him just ever so slightly for helping interrupt her little spat with Shoukon yesterday. She curbed her next remark and stored it for later, if needed, wondering why she felt the sudden urge to be nicer to him.

"I know. You're in the uniform, still," she told him flatly, looking away and back towards the street. "Your friend beat the shit out of that bastard Shoukon, or is he hurt?"

She cared? He tilted his head to the side. No, she was probably just wondering about her own problems, if she was enemies with...Shoukon. But he didn't know that for sure...he continued to frown, trying to place what she was thinking. "No...Kimpatsu's okay. Got a fat lip, but he's had worse."

That earned him a brief nod of acknowledgment from the girl, and he warily stepped a bit closer, still trying to figure her out. Something was there; something he couldn't place, something he knew that made him very wary, cautious. He saw her yesterday. But that wasn't it. It eluded him, and he felt like he would never get any information if he just asked her flat out who the hell she was. Trying for a slightly more cautious approach to getting her name, he prompted, "I'm Kotaishi. Okami Kotaishi."

The reaction he received was not quite what he had expected. Her head snapped back to him, and she blinked a few times, as though startled at the name, eyes searching his face as though that would give her an answer. He hoped she'd respond by giving hers, but seemed suddenly too preoccupied with her own worried thoughts to do so. She pressed her fingertips to her lips and mumbled, "Okami...Kotaishi...huh?" Her brows drew down sharply, puzzled, confused.

Kotaishi leaned forward, now in position against the frame holding up the swings, the empty ones swaying in the increasing wind, diagonal from the ground. She was blinking, evidence of a rapid train of thought, expressions of confusion and something similar to pain crossing her face, bringing out feelings of worry he couldn't help. What was wrong with her? A few moments ago she was ready to spit needles at him, and now...she just looked lost. Pale. Why?

The knowledge of something being wrong was confirmed when a moment later, she stood, rubbing bare arms for a moment and keeping her gaze down. "It's getting cold..." she used as an excuse, "I...I'm leaving."

Well, what was he supposed to say to that? Demand she stay? Why would he want to talk to her? He did...she was pissing him off earlier, but now...when he'd seen her at school, he'd wanted to walk forward and demand to know what she was doing there, even though she obviously went to school there. Why?

Something cold hit him on the top of the head, splattering and soaking into his hair. A moment later, another droplet fell, staining the shoulder of his coat. Then another on the ground, and another, dotting the pebbles and the sidewalk and street beyond, the skies finally ripping open and the clouds pouring out the moisture that they had stored, a ripple of thunder rolling overhead and drumming against the land, echoing loudly.

Kotaishi swore and grabbed at the collar of his coat, pulling it over his head. He'd been about to go home when the girl started up bickering with him, and then while arguing, he'd lost track of time and forgotten the fact it was about to dump buckets. She made a strangled, almost squealing noise of alarmed dismay, arms moving around as though she wasn't sure if she should cover her head with her hands or cover her tank top. Apparently she'd lost track of time too, because she was looking increasingly pissed with each moment, finally starting to stomp her way across the playground now that she had settled for some sort of comical hybrid of covering both her chest and her head, one with each arm. Whatever mood she had been in before the skies opened, was now forgotten in the immediacy of her problem. Kotaishi laughed, and, though another peal of thunder roared, she had heard him, whirling around and giving him a scathing look that would have killed, if it hadn't been so incredibly out of place with her arm draped over her head and the feather in her hair plastered onto her cheek.

The grin stayed on his face, and she huffed, turning back with all the dignity she could muster, expression as dark as the sky above. He supposed, actually, it really wasn't fair. She was going to catch cold like that, and though she was annoying him earlier, for all he knew, that bastard she mentioned could be the reason she was in such a foul mood. Besides, he couldn't just leave her to muck around in the rain like a mackerel.

He almost laughed again at the astounded look on her face when she realized something was looming beside her, and over her head. By then, Kotaishi had controlled the smirk on his lips and had managed to get serious. She'd probably try smacking him if she thought he was making fun of her somehow, trying to be nice after all that. "If you don't live far..." he offered, hefting the long end of his coat for her to grab. Her eyes widened at the suggestion, momentarily trying to decide if he was serious or not. "Do you want to get completely soaked?" he asked, tugging the upper portion of the coat more tightly around his own shoulders.

There was genuine surprise in her face, at the thought he was actually offering to help her out. With a bit of trepidation, she clung to the wide end, and then two of them tried to bumble along the street, him running, lengthening his strides to move faster, her trying to keep up. "Slow down!" she shouted up at him after a minute of this, trying not to trip over her own shoes. "Mou! Slow down! If I fall I'm taking you with me!" She glared as she used the hand on the inside of the coat to dig into into the fabric of his school uniform, latching on, and, when he started to stumble along with her, she forced him slow his gait.

His long strides shortened, and after a moment, hers caught up, the two of them running in unison, her using him as leverage against a fall. Back up the street, back up the way she came earlier, past the now empty yard of the old lady with the pinwheels in her flowerbed. They were spinning wildly, knocked about by the whipping wind and water. Kotaishi looked up ahead, following the intense gaze of the girl, looking for wherever she had set as their destination. The streetlamps revealed more houses ahead, which she seemed to ignore, her face lifting a little when a large set of apartments came into view. That had to be it, then. He shivered a little.

The damn rain had soaked them through, since his coat was not lifted quite in time, and the new puddles that were even now forming on the ground had been splashed up by their running feet. The overhang of the apartment complex's front stoop shielded them from the worst, but slanting winds brought the water sleeting down to the side, splattering onto the concrete, wettening it in the now hazy yellow light from the streetlamps and from within the hallways behind the door.

She gave him an odd look as she dropped her end of the coat, the dingy brown sleeves of it dangling haphazardly in the wind for just a moment, before he managed to straighten it out, eyeing her in return. He could see something strange in her face, a wariness mingled with curiosity, making her peer forward, though she was trying to hold back. Water droplets clung to her lashes and to the fringes of her hair, making it cling to her face and curl around her eyes, the most peculiar cherrywood color, an unordinary brown. That same curiosity in her face was reflected in his; he could see it in the reflection of her wide eyes.

Who was she? What was she? Why did looking at her make him nervous and angry and disoriented so strangely lightheaded all at once? So familiar, somehow, beginning to shiver in the sleeting rain, arms folded across her chest to keep in some meager warmth. She was cold? No, she wasn't supposed to be cold. She was...anything but cold. The girl he'd talked to at the park was too temperamental to be cold.

He grasped for something to say, to break the hold of her eyes, to stop and turn away and try to figure out what was happening to him. His head was starting to hurt, thoughts and emotions trying to flood his head. "You...you should go in. It's cold out here..."

A wry smile tried to force its way to her face as she arched an eyebrow. "Yeah, I noticed."

"Why are you waiting then?"

The smile finally emerged."Why are you? You could leave. Free planet."

"I..." he began awkwardly, cut off when she tilted her head to the side and began to examine his face more freely, slowly reaching up to touch his cheek, turning it to the side as though to look closer. Her hands were smooth and cool against his skin, and the lightheaded feeling began to swell, pounding inside his mind."What...what are you doing?"

"I know you," she murmured, looking into his face and seeing confused blue eyes searching her face as well. She didn't know from where, or from when, but his face was so familiar. Where and when and how she knew him eluded her, and the confusion slipped across her face smoothly as she struggled with the buried memory.

She looked so delicate that way, head tilted to the side like some tiny avian, the dampened feather in her headband fluttering in the gusts of wind and rain that blew around them. Beautiful and strange and intoxicating.

Her eyes widened slightly as he leaned downward and lightly pressed his lips to hers, curiously, tentatively, not entirely sure what insane impulse prompted him to it. Looking like that, her hand touching him, so close, so familiar, so confusing, he wanted to feel some finality to it, some closure to it, to finish whatever had started with that strange, lonely look in the schoolyard.

Struggling to close her eyes and relax, she willed herself to enjoy the sensation of his lips upon hers. Her hand had fallen to his shoulder, and she was slowly bringing herself closer, the two of them awkwardly trying to fit against each other, unfamiliarly. Strangely aware of the bones in her and his face, her lashes finally rested against her cheeks, feeling some warmth radiating from him as she returned the pressure of his mouth, encouraging him to continue. The cold rain was forgotten and replaced with a shared warmth that was beginning to make her dizzy, images dancing on the hem of her mind.

A face loomed there, blue eyes like his, dark hair like his, glaring at her in anger and hatred and she could catch the stink of ashes in the air, not rain, but strong, nearly choking, scents of dirt and anger and blood. Startled, she gasped, breaking away and nearly backing into the glass door leading into the complex, frightened, and frantically trying to suppress the pounding of her heart, from the kiss and the memory and what was she doing? She barely knew him and here she stood in the rain, kissing a boy she didn't know and who tasted of ashes.

He looked confused, and as she watched, she could see it slipping into suspicion and hurt. She hadn't meant to hurt him. Shoving him away like that was probably cruel; she didn't want that. She didn't want to see him leave, because somehow, she did know him, and if he left now, then school would just be a place they crossed paths, ignoring each other. This moment would be forgotten. She wanted to know who he was. What he was.

A calm smile finally slid its way onto her lips, and she let it be honest, though her voice was lightly coy and inviting. "We can always try that again...when you don't taste like ashes."

His eyes widened slightly, and he blinked as she pointed at his shirt pocket, where his empty pack of cigarettes were tucked away. He glared a nasty frown down at it, then looked back at her as she opened the door and slipped inside, keeping her head out for a moment longer, a few droplets of rainwater dripping from her hair to the ground.

Brows knitting together, he stared at her, watching as she tried not to laugh at his expression. "Who the hell _are_ you?" he demanded after a moment, finally managing to get out what he'd wanted to ask before.

"Kuraino Mai," she shrugged nonchalantly. "I'll see you at school tomorrow?" she asked with a chuckle as she shut the door, leaving him standing alone on the dimly lit doorstep, wondering why she phrased the words as a question, not a statement, and not letting him answer. Bitch. That was rude. He should probably just ignore her, just forget about this last hour and go on with his life. It seemed like a damn good idea. She was going to be trouble. He could tell. What the hell was wrong with him? Get away and pretend it never happened...

But as a light switched on in one of the second storey windows, he felt a little unsure.

Swinging the slick coat around him, he pulled the collar up over his head and bolted back into the rain.

* * *

_...we interrupt your currently scheduled fanfic for a small presentation by some of the story's stars..._

_Sango and Miroku, in their usual sengoku jidai travel gear, are seated on the ground next to each other, sharing the book that is this particular fanfic. Both look like they are stuck between being shocked and falling over laughing. Kouga and Kagura, also in their usual gear, are standing not far away, arms folded and very stiffly trying not to look at each other._

Sango: They...they...oh kami-sama. Houshi-sama, did you know she liked alternate pairings? I've never seen this before.  
Miroku: I think having 'Venganza' and 'Snow Kagura and the Seven Chibis' on her favorites list was a slight tip off...  
Sango: But...but them? Well, at least they're both single...  
Kouga: I am not! I'm going to marry Kagome!  
Kagura: /snorts/ You're delusional wolf-boy. Have you not been reading the translations of the actual series or what?  
Kouga: /glares/  
Kagura: Humph. You weren't even a good kisser. Figures I'd get stuck with some mangy savage who doesn't know what the hell he's doing.  
Kouga: Oy! I didn't see you complaining!  
Kagura: You tasted like cigarettes, moron, don't you remember? I don't liplock ashtrays.  
Kouga: I am not an ashtray! I don't even smoke!  
Kagura: Ha! And how am I supposed to know that?  
Kouga: /getting an wicked gleam in his eye/ Heh...c'mere, Kagura...  
Kagura: /blanching/ Gah! /runs/  
Sango: /watching Kouga try to chase down Kagura/ Well...this is disturbing.  
Miroku: I wonder if we get any kissing scenes.../begins to flip through the book/  
Sango: /blushing/ Houshi-sama!  
Miroku: You already know she writes us together. You even promised to bear my children awhile ago and that was in canon.  
Sango: I...um, know that...um...  
Miroku: Aha! Found it!  
Sango: What? Already? Us?  
Miroku: /grins/ We've still got some reading to do...assuming both we and the story survive Kouga and Kagura's chase here...we'd better get back to the fic.

Meanwhile-  
Kagura: Keep away from me you demented wolf! Fuujin no Mai!

Kouga: /dodging the wind blades/ Oy! Author chick! Can you do something about that?

Me: Sure./snaps fingers and the blades dissipate/  
Kagura: Hey! Whose side are you on? Kouga! What the hell are you...Kouga let go of me right now!  
Kouga: What, you thought I wasn't serious?

Me: cough The rest of this particular omake interlude has been censored for language, violence, and various other R rated material. _Venganza _is by Thunk, and _Snow Kagura and the Seven Chibis_ is by Mynuet, both wonderful Kouga/Kagura fics. I now take you back to your regularly scheduled fanfic. ^.~

* * *

Kouga- Kotaishi (prince) Okami (wolf)

Should I even start on how strange it is that I like the Kouga/Kagura pairing? .  
I'm usually such a canon girl...

Anyway, I've had a very interesting time with the two of them...especially after they actually do remember who they really are. Totally different kind of writing style is needed for them, as opposed to, say, Sango and Miroku, who already have a relationship well established in the series. Kagura is clearly further along than Kouga at this point in time in memories, but she still is grasping at straws. Want to talk about chaos...and I opted for the most literal names I could come up with for everyone, so Kouga, the wolf prince, now has a name that actually means wolf prince. Creative, ain't I?  
As for the pairing, I know it's weird. Eh. The _Romeo and Juliet _stuff was probably laying it on a little thick, but most high schools (in the U.S., anyway) read _Romeo and Juliet_ (so it's a World Lit. class she's in...^^; Dunno what literature 10th grade Japanese students read...). Personally I think _The Taming of the Shrew_ would fit those two much better...heh, _Kiss Me, Kagura_.

Ever notice Shippou occasionally gets mistaken for a tanuki by random people in the series? His 'family name' I debated on for awhile, trying to think of something that went well with the word 'Shippou.' Since I had random block on an inspired name for him, I named him after Kurama on _Yu Yu Hakusho_. So, Minamino it is. Kitsune need to stick together, ne? Shippou's role is a little weird because he is a child in the sengoku jidai...and he's been alive all this time, as opposed to the rest who lived, died, and were reborn. Shippou needed to remain 'Shippou-like' but still be a grown up Shippou...characterization in this fic is a doozy.

Also, as for the reason why there are no youkai. There doesn't seem to be any youkai in Kagome's world, outside of the one, early story about the Noh mask. Even then, it was something inanimate, and not a youkai in the sense you see them running around in the sengoku jidai. Youkai seem to be fairly prolific there, so I'm assuming something happened over the course of the Tokugawa or Meiji periods to eliminate them. Deciding to take a _Princess Mononoke_-ish angle on it, modern weaponry and living eventually became a deciding factor. The only person in the series I can recall getting shot was Jakotsu, right before he first met up with the tachi. And he was a zombie, not a youkai. So I'm assuming it's feasible.  
So that's where all the youkai have gone...

Til next time.  
~Queen


	6. Sesshoumaru and Kanna's 'Business Dinner

_Good Karma_

_Ashes, ashes, they all fall down_  
_-ring around the rosy_

_

* * *

_

_Chapter 5- Sesshoumaru and Kanna's 'Business Dinner'_

_He stood in a grave. _All around was the earth, the soil, slipping and sliding down into the hole that he dug, roots and bits of stone trickling like a sieve into the earth. Each plunge of the shovel brought up little dirt; he stood only to his knees. There was soreness of overused muscles. Tired. Weary. Sick. His arm ached; fleshy skin knit back together inhumanly fast, stinging with the burning of acid, of poison. He sweat, beads rolling down his forehead, warmed by a soft leather band. Long hair stuck to his neck. Hands burned, but remained determined. Around him lay the dead; piles of dead men in armor and fur, others dressed the same, living though, moving amongst blazing, sky licking red fires that filled the air with acrid choking smoke, billowing, that clogged the lungs and made the vision swim from dryness. They worked to bury the dead alongside him. Corpses were carried, others shoveled dirt back over them in the firelit night sky. He wanted water, but his hole was no well. A cradle of rock to be filled with rotting bone.

The spade sank into the hard ground again, striking a large rock and snapping, the slivers of wood splintering into his hands and lodging there. Broken, the handle was tossed aside and out of the shallow future grave. The gravedigger winced, swore once, quietly. The gothic silence of the place would be blasphemied with such harsh words.

And then there was a person standing there, at the foot of the grave, a woman in kimono of many colors, primary but shadowed in the darkness not reddened by the fire, a white feather in her hair. A red striped fan was poised at her face, hiding the thin smile he could see in her scarlet eyes, filled with bitter amusement. Then there was laughter. Not from the woman but from the mouths of dead men, rising around like marionettes and dying of laughter, mocking laughter without mirth. The fire was gone, but the rancid smoke was belched through the devouring mouths, swirling around and pressing inward. Only the red eyes, the red eyes in the face of the woman remained clear; she moved, the fan revealing her smiling lips, brought up and around and down and then the wind tore apart the world.

Kotaishi woke up strangling the bedsheets that he had wrestled off his bed, revealing the plastic covered mattress beneath. Blaring up from under the floorboards was the pulsing sound of the television on full blast. His dad was up and being obnoxious. He flopped back onto his pillow. A moment later, the shrill scream of his mother pierced the house, screeching for the damned television to be turned off, because some people had jobs. The lower pitch of his father argued back, and Kotaishi flipped the pillow over his head to muffle it out. It was two in the morning, what the hell was wrong with them? He sighed, crushing the pillow to his face for a moment before tossing it across the room in exasperation. They'd be at it for a little while, at least. He sat up, rubbing his face and feeling the moisture of his sweat there; the sheets were damp as well, tangled into yellow knots from his tossing.

Everything looked the same as it did when he turned out the light. Schoolbooks in a mess on the floor with notebooks scattered around. His wet trenchcoat was draped, drying, over the back of his desk's chair. He'd dropped the shirt of his school uniform on the floor, where it remained, taunting him to clean it up. He kicked his sock covered feet over the edge of the bed, then picked at the black pants he was still wearing. Dry now, only wrinkled, but...ugh. The shade of his window was still drawn, and a patch of flourescent light was illuminating a square on the carpet of his room. The light was blotchy from the rivulets of rain on the glass, evidence of the drenched world outside.

Only a drizzle was visible beyond the window, smattering around the ground and keeping it from drying. Kotaishi rubbed his face with his hands, vigorously, trying to wake himself up. The roar of the television had dulled, though the sharp punches of his mother's voice were still to be heard, evidence that she was not yet done berating her husband. The racket didn't help...the rata-tat-tat of machine gun fire was floating up from whatever movie dad had flipped on, and it reminded him of the war zone he'd recently abandoned in his dream.

Vivid. Blood. Dirt. Grime sweat breath death determination anger. Anger. Much anger.

He curled his hands into cautious fists, feeling again the grip of the rough wooden shovel in his wide palms. Mom used to plant flowers, years ago. He remembered being told to help dig, and dig he did. Not like that though. Not like that. Not with grim resolution. Not with the feeling of heavy responsibility...he hadn't killed those people. They were his people. His friends. He was burying his friends. Had this been something in the world he understood, had something happened to one of his friends today, he'd find the bastard who did it and beat them within an inch of their life. He understood the responsibility feeling. It led to vengance.

His hands clenched and he beat his fists against his knees, reaching out and opening one of the tinny drawers on his desk, pushing around inside and moving the jumble of accumulated junk, pulling out the last pack of the carton of cigarettes he'd pilfered from his parents room a week ago, accompanied by a lighter. He looked at the red lettered brand logo, frowning.

_Red fires that filled the air with acrid choking smoke, billowing, that clogged the lungs._

He picked one of them out and flicked open the lighter, the flame flickering as he reached the tip of the filter. The thinnest tendril of smoke curled upward towards his face.

_My lungs aren't going to crystallize and rot out of my chest. Your smoking reeks._

With a grimace, he closed the lighter and stamped out the cigarette on its metal casing, then stood, opening the window and letting cold damp air rush in, mingled with the smell of wet greenery. It was a good clean scent, so very fresh. The cigarettes did stink. Why didn't he notice that so much before? He turned back to the room and tossed the lighter back into his desk with a clatter, then returned to the window.

_The rancid smoke was belched through the devouring mouths..._

No screen had been put up that year. Leaning outward slightly, he pitched the nearly full pack out the window, letting it sail into the bushes. If mom found it, he'd assume it was his dad's, and throw a fit, but Kotaishi suddenly felt the overpowering urge to get the filthy stinking things out of his room. They were as bad as wet dog. And that was one of the nastiest stinks he could think of.

The wind was cold, and without a shirt, gooseflesh quickly began rising on his skin, prickling up his arms and over his shoulders. What was that, really? He used the chill to keep himself awake, lounging on the wooden ledge, leading to the shingles of the roof outside. Dreams were usually nonsensical to him; he ususally didn't care. But this...this he recalled the way he remembered blowing smoke up into that uppity girl Mai's face.

Mai with her lovely cherrywood eyes, and Mai with a white feather in her hair. Mai who did not wear a kimono, but a wet tank top and who ran with him in the rain. It was grey outside, but there was a enough light to see the further rooftops, unbalancing the horizon, littered with satellite dishes and telephone poles. The city lights were dimmed now, and only lightposts glowed up from the streets. No stars, all covered in grey clouds, moving rapidly away towards the sea.

Who was she?

She said it herself...she knew him. Not from where, or from when, but she knew him. And he knew her. The nightmare woman in the dream with her red eyes, inhuman red eyes, wore her face. Wore her sarcastic smile. Wore her red lips. He squeezed his eyes shut, gripping his hair with his hands. There wasn't anything special about the girl...she was pretty, yes, but so were a lot of girls. She was sarcastic and witty, yes, but then, so were a lot of girls. Her eyes were tinted red, yes, but they were not the crimson color standing out so starkly amid the black smoke breathed by uncounted dead men.

Enemy. Enemy. The woman standing at the grave was his enemy. It was she who was responsible...somehow. The feeling twisted his gut. He'd kissed an identical face. Willingly. Moron. He kept treating this like it was real, but it was a dream, just a dream, only a dream, albeit a freakish, horrific one he'd rather never have happened. That nightmare woman wasn't even human...what human had blood colored eyes? Some weird dream, that was all. He'd have to see Kuraino Mai again tomorrow...today...in school. The pale, heart shaped face wasn't faceless in a crowd anymore. He'd have to pass her eventually...on the way in, on the way out. Walking by. And she'd always look like the nightmare woman who murdered the men around him. He tried not to shiver and failed; it was just the cold, honest.

Ridiculous. No. He was just remembering wrong. They couldn't be identical. Mai was human, that...person...creature...was not. And that was impossible, the stuff of horror movies, of fantasy. He'd never seen the brutality of a battle outside of one. He was still in high school, not in the military or anything. There had to be differences between the two females. He'd probably been overly distracted by her nails digging into his arm to stay upright...or by arguing with her...or by that damnable wet tank top...he smacked himself in the head. Now was not the time to be perverted. The sound of the television below had been silenced.

Whoever she was, he had to make sure it was just faulty memory. Or something like that, whatever it was. He'd find out in the morning. The light filled morning, after dawn. He'd find Mai at school, and look at her face again, to see if he could feel that maliciousness in her gaze, the way he believed he did in the nightmare. Whatever it meant.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

* * *

A hand swept across a wrist, revealing the watch gracing it. A leather strap, a golden face, and a pair of tiny hands that pointed the time. Five o'clock, precisely. Kagami was facing the little _Villa _resturaunt at the appointed time, not a moment too soon, not a moment too late. Early and she might appear anxious; late and she may appear careless. It hadn't been too difficult to slip out of the office a few minutes early, as to get down the stairs and down the block with enough time. The cafe itself was a throwback; a little, tucked between towers place that was ushered behind glassier and more resplendent buildings. Plants hung in the windows, and she opened the door to a rush of fresh baked bread smells, warm and garlic laden. A recorded chime sounded as she entered, and a host appeared from behind the counter, all black pants and starched white shirt, slicked back hair.

"How many in your party, madame?" he asked politely, noticing her grey business suit, and knowing the area around his cafe. There was no telling who she was or how much money she made; besides, she was pretty and it had been slow that day, maybe she'd tip well.

Kagami turned to him, and watched the traditional welcoming greeting falter a little bit at her dark gaze, though he valiantly struggled to smile. "I'm awaiting Taisho-san, if he has not arrived yet."

If the host had been unsettled before, he almost fell over at that little declaration. His face paled, and he stuttered, "Of course! Of course, madame, he's back this way, he's been waiting for you for just a few minutes now, really, not long at all." Bobbing rapidly, he finally straightened himself out and took a deep breath to lead her to the table. One too-powerful businessman who gives you the creeps meeting a mysterious lady who was at least as spooky may be something fun to observe on the sidelines, but definitely not something he wanted to be close to.

Walking behind him, Kagami took in the surroundings once more. It had been awhile since she'd visited the cafe, and though she remembered the tasty food, the place was not, inside, the most typical of cafes. It had changed, albiet subtly, from her memories, though that was not surprising. Menus were written on intricately framed chalkboards and lit with little lamps for reading; beyond the entrance, the place was dimly lit and moody, emulating a sense of some old film noir, though no men smoked oversized cigars in the murky, candlelit corners. White plastered walls were decorated with fresco and bits of mosaic, each frieze trying to depict a different pastoral scene of some faraway land. Tables, chairs, cloths, dishes- all mismatched as though gathered down several decades and recycled into a deliberate attempt at chaos, something severely lacking in the glossy business district outside. The owners of _La Villa_ strove for the elegance and eclecticness most other restaurants in the business area failed to hold, and Kanna forced herself to supress a smile at the lovely soprano sounds of _Lakme's 'Flower Duet'_ on the sound system, dipping and soaring in French. Certainly only the best for the local wealthy. So wildly counter to everything else in the area, _La Villa _was refereshing to look at, to sit in, to enjoy.

Seated at one of the side tables, situated beneath one of the menus, Sesshoumaru sat in an overstuffed Victorian chair, eyes closed, a cup of coffee in a chipped pewter mug between his refined hands. Hearing their footsteps finally draw near, he opened them, reflecting their more natural gold, politely half standing as the host held Kanna's chair for her to sit.

Forcing a smile to his face again, the host asked, "Is there anything I can get you, madame? Sir?"

The two seated glanced at each other, not uncertainly, but as though trying to decide who should speak first. After a moment, Sesshoumaru decided to take a sip of his untouched coffee, and Kanna turned to the man, requesting, "Tea. Earl Grey, if you have it. With lemon."

"Certainly. And you, sir?"

"Nothing."

A weak smile wobbled on his face. He'd been sitting there for ten minutes without touching the coffee, and it was probably cold by now. What was the point? Weird. Really weird. "Very well. It will be here shortly." He backed away as hastily as he could without a suggested insult, hoping another couple of customers would come in soon. With the lunch rush gone, there was barely anyone running the place with him. Creepy people.

The opera concluded on the intercom, sliding into another as the two sat silently at their table, Kanna adjusting her cloth napkin, ladylike, on her lap.

"Kuraino Kagami, age twenty-three," Sesshoumaru began after a moment, satisfied that none of the cafe staff was within their hearing range. Kanna traced the lacy edge of the napkin with a finger as he spoke, slowly settling and growing still. "Kuraino Mai, only sibling, age sixteen. Parents, reported dead as of thirteen years ago. Former manager of the...Compact Disc Trading Barn...recently closed. Reincarnate of the detachment Kanna." The dispassionate look on his face grew more serious. "How many others are there?"

Well, he'd at least done his homework. Or had someone do it for him. And quite to the point, as well. So he knew who she was supposed to be. That was well enough. Jumped to the conclusion there were others, but then, he was correct in that assumption, so it mattered little. She looked up from her lap and met the golden eyes watching her, letting them remain as impassive as she might. "Do you still have the Tenseiga, Sesshoumaru-sama?"

Kanna could feel the quick flash of annoyance at what he would assume to be evasion. He knew that she knew going after the sword itself was pure suicide, assuming he still even had the relic. The sword was out of the question, therefore it was something else she was after. He was curious, but not ready to tolerate whatever games she might try to play. Simply replying would appear to give her an upper hand in the conversation that he was not about to abandon.

"How many?" he repeated, a bit more icily, then frowned and looked to the side, where a waiter was walking through the kitchen door into the dining area, a steaming glass of clear water balanced on his tray, a slice of lemon fixed to the rim. A moment later, the waiter was smiling hugely, a stocky young man who, with another pair at his table, would have been happily chatting and serving away. Instead, he set the piping hot glass down with the teabag, bowed, and was silenced by a look from Sesshoumaru when he opened his mouth to ask if they wanted anything to eat now. He skittered away quickly.

Unwrapping the little bag of black tea, Kanna dipped it into the clear glass, letting it soak down to the bottom, and allowing the water to turn to a shimmering red-brown, deep in the dimness of the back of the cafe. As the color turned to a burnished burgundy shade, she pulled out the teabag and set it aside. "The answer to your question," she answered at length, "matters little. The question is better asked, 'Who has returned?'" She ran a fingertip around the rim of the glass. "Naraku, in essence, is a parasite, Sesshoumaru-sama."

"He's dead."

"As dead as I am." Kanna returned, picking up her glass of tea and feeling the steaming warmth of it radiate through the glass and into her small hands, using a sip from the tea to hide the delicate curve of a relieved smile. She set the glass down with a soft tap, looking at him pointedly, and spoke with quiet words. "I sit across from you now. I know who I am. I died. He died. Naraku is a creation, a consciousness, even a soul, resulting from a combination of youkai in a human body. A parasite, that overruns but cannot kill its host, instead replacing and subduing it." She bowed her head. "It is happening again."

Sesshoumaru leaned back in the old chair, resting his hands on the ends of the chair's arms, considering what she was saying. He knew Rin had, as a girl, come to recall events of her previous childhood, sometimes confusing them with this one. Sorting them out had taken time and effort, as well as guidance from himself. Kanna did indeed sit before him now, evidence that Rin's existence was not a fluke. It was happening again. If Naraku's soul, if that pathetic conglomeration of youkai parts supposedly even had such a thing, was here, and presumably still gaining power, since Kanna did not seem to be expressing extreme urgence, then it would need to be taken care of. Nuisance. It was an insult to the youkai race. The centuries old desire to avenge recieved insults had abated with time and the thing's death, but if it were here, now, again...

"Why come to me?"

Kanna finally looked up again. "In order to kill a parasite, it must be removed from its host to wither and die."

So. She hoped Tenseiga was capable of doing such a thing. Kill it at its root, and, since it was Tenseiga, the human host would be left unharmed, if not healed of any injury caused by being infested with the thing. "You're hoping to save the host."

The reincarnate shrugged delicately, taking another slight sip from the tea, the wisps of steam curling around her face. "Death also matters little. He is hard to control already. Either way, I'll be free of him."

Sesshoumaru lifed an eyebrow. "Freedom? You sound like Kagura." Her response startled him slightly, and he reminded himself that Kanna, detachment though she was, was also Kagami, and a human. There was anger there, if only for a moment, kindled in her blank black eyes.

Her voice was low, but sharp. "I am not a youkai. I am a human with the memories of one. I remember the nothingness. I remember not having a soul in my heart in my chest and staring emptily at a mirror and following orders with nihility in my mind. I am Kanna, Kanna is me. I have a will."

So it seemed. Then, "Tenseiga is my weapon. No one may take it from me."

Leaning back slightly, Kanna rested against her chair. He would help...perhaps not for reasons she understood or reasons she wanted him to, but with that statement, he was admitting he had the power to do so. She still did not know if removing Naraku would completely destroy him, but there was no way to seperate the two beings and strike only one down. She breathed a bit more easily. He was growing stronger, as time passed; she wouldn't be able to control him much longer.

"Higurashi Jinja," Kanna told him, watchful. "to take the Shikon no Tama before it returns to the past."

"What?"

A tired smile emerged on Kanna's face, one she couldn't help. Stumping the all powerful Sesshoumaru-sama, sometime Lord of the Western Lands, wasn't something that happened every day. "It is here. It's been here for fifteen years. I don't know how it returns. But it will. The miko, Kagome...my sister wears the uniform of that district's senior high. There is a girl with her name and her face living at that jinja. Look, if you do not believe."

There was no sense of trickery in her words, no tone of deceit. The Shikon no Tama was a thing of the past, not the present, and its presence in this time was not something to look for. Magical jewels were things of the long past, of more superstitious times, not now. If what she said was true, and Kagome did have the Shikon no Tama, and if, as Kanna also claimed, Naraku was alive, if weak, the tama would once again be the object of his desire. Plucked out of Kagome's keeping now, assuming the possibility of time travel was real, the past would be entirely changed. It would be chaos. Recycled into this era, regaining his old memories, he'd know he had already lost. Which meant Naraku had nothing to lose, even in a desperate attempt. If he could claim the tama before Kagome somehow got to the sengoku jidai, then he would change the past by changing the present. It seemed backwards.

"I'll examine the jinja if I so wish," Sesshoumaru told her flatly, standing and concluding the meeting by picking up the briefcase at his feet. If it were true, then there would be trouble. Looking down at her, eyes dulling into their disguised honey color again, he placed money on the table, enough to cover two full meals. "Good evening."

"Good evening, Taisho-san," replied Kuraino Kagami, standing and bowing at his departure, hoping he had understood her true meaning.

* * *

Tap tap tap tap taptaptaptap...

Clock. Less than five minutes. Bell. Come on.

Tap tap tap.

Mai was bored. She was also holding, in her hand, a folded up note, currently being used to drum against her desktop in agitation at the utter slowness of the time. Not that she was anxious. No, no way was she anxious. Curious. That was it. Of course she'd get a note like this today- if not a note, then something else. Some other form of contact. It'd be rude otherwise, and she'd been careful about how she'd left.

The note read, in somewhat sloppy but perfectly legible handwriting:

_Mai-_  
_Meet me at the front gate after school._

_Kotaishi_

It was in her locker when she opened it that morning, all folded up and with her name on it. She didn't know how he found out where her locker was that fast, but...who cared? Not something she felt like worrying about. Nope, not that. What worried her was why a note. Well, not that she was worried, really, but...curious. Yes. Curious. If this was just a 'Oh, by the way, yesterday was a just a fluke, right? I've got a girlfriend' deal...screw her promise to onee-chan the bastard was going down. Oh, there would be so much hell to pay if that were the scenario. 'Meet me at the front gate' wasn't exactly elaborate as far as notes go...he could be there to say anything. Declaring his undying love for her seemed a little much though...she bit her lip and tried not to laugh at that mental image. Calm down, stupid. The girlfriend situation was far more likely...it wasn't like he was a girl and signed off his notes with little pink hearts and stuff. If he did, she'd be worrying about a totally different scenario...she tried very hard not to burst into laughter at that. No, the boy was straight. Do not go there. Though he probably would look really good in Romeo's black leather pants...mmm...nice man legs.

Tap tap tap.

Come on, bell!

Didn't know a thing about the guy, other than that he smoked. Yeesh, that had to stop. She set down the note and sighed, putting her cheek in her hand, not really even bothering an attempt to pay attention to class, though she really ought to. Soft, but tasted of ashes. Ashes...ashes with blue eyes among them. Hurt. Angry eyes. She tugged a little at the feather in her hair, spinning it around her finger and feeling its silkiness. Empty eyes, glazed with death, death bearing, staring at her. And ashes, ashes, as they all fell down...

The bell rang.

The teacher's voice began calling for anyone with quizzes to make up to stay after for it. The sound of teenage voices and scuffling feet almost drowned it out, books and papers rustling as they were shoved into bags and flung over shoulders in the stampede to get out the door and to the freedom of after school hours.

Mai, quickly forgetting the chill her thoughts gave her, was practically first among them. The faster she got out...at least to the bottom floor, the better. Today would require careful timing. The initial bolt from the classroom had to be tempered with not wanting to look like she was absolutely frantic to appear at the front gate. Her usual reason for running, though, sat only two desks behind her, and she didn't want to get caught by that bastard Shoukon, on today of all days. She'd hide in the girl's bathroom if she had to, though that idea wasn't exactly appealing, for more reasons than just making her late. Quickly, quickly, hurry, hurry. Don't rush, but move fast. Maneuver around the rest of the rabble. So freaking slow all the time, wasn't there a limit on how many people can hog the hallway with gigantic bookbags all moving about an inch a minute? What was wrong with people?

Almost to the stairs. If she could just make it to the stairs, she'd be halfway there. Down the flights, out the door. Keep composure. Almost...almost...

"Mai-chan!" a male voice called over the rush, not far behind her, and Mai immediately picked up the pace. Shiiiiiit. Her feet his the stairs. What the freaking hell did the bastard want today? She was in no mood for it. He'd been unnaturally quiet at lunch, not even bothering to harass her, which meant he probably had some nefarious plot to ruin her otherwise nerve-wracked but blissfully peaceful day. Bastard. Down, down, down, faster, swing around on the railing, down, faster...bottom flight in sight! "Mai-chan!"

Damn that rotten stinking bastard calling her that! She wasn't anybody's '-chan' and definitely not his! Absolutely revolting! She'd rather be shot. Multiple times. In the head. Mai grit her teeth and finally reached the bottom floor, ready to dash down the hall to the first floor bathrooms, as long as she could get around...the horde of twelfth years milling around and chatting! Dammit! Where did they all come from!

A hand latched onto her arm, and she spun, ready for anything that he might try. He had the most smug expression on his face, like some adult about to reprimand an errant child, and taking pleasure out of the scolding. She wanted to wipe that self righteous smirk off his oily face. "What?" she practically snarled, smacking his hand off her elbow and dropping into a more defensive position, only slightly cramped in the hallway; they stood on the fringes of the exodus.

Shoukon lifted his eyebrows, looking condescendingly down at her. The smirk widened into a lopsided smile. "Why, Mai, what are you planning to do, wave me to death?"

Her eyes widened as she became a little more wary of her posture. Knees slightly bent, as though ready to move, back leaning forward, right arm stretched out to the side as though she were holding an invisible weapon, ready to use it. The comment on her strange reaction only served to annoy her further. Her open hand balled into a fist, but she didn't straighten or acknowledge that she was doing anything odd. It felt natural.

She decided to ignore the last jab and wonder about it later. "What do you want now, Shoukon?"

"Hmm," he shrugged, lifting his hands, "Just to apologize...I realized I've been causing you a great deal of trouble lately. Just wanted to make sure we were all even, you know. Don't want to anger the wrong people." He gave her what she assumed to be his most winning smile, and felt her stomach turn over as her hand began to shake, partly in rage, partly in embarassment. How dare he? How dare he try to make fun of her like this? Days of taunting, harassing, teasing, commenting, worrying..._even?_ How dare he even suggest such a thing? Anger the wrong people? What the hell was that all about? He couldn't possibly be refering to the note she'd tucked into her pocket.

Now here he was, in the hallway with a dozen witnesses, trying to be 'nice' and apologize? What did he take her for? An idiot? A lunatic? Did he have any fucking idea how much shit she had to deal with from him? That was supposed to make it all better? Ha! She didn't have to take it from him. Never again. Never take any crap from anyone! Not from him. Especially not from him! She was _free!_

Her fist opened again, and the cracking sound her palm made against Shoukon's face turned the several remaining heads that were around them. They saw a shocked boy whose expression quickly darkened into pure hatred, and a girl who was seething, giving the boy an equally hateful look upward, hissing, "Get..._away_...from me."

"What's going on over here?" a voice demanded, and a few of the observing students were pushed aside to make way for one of the senior girls, flanked by two other girls, all three toting full duffel bags and looking serious. It only took a second for the speaker to decide whose side to take... and though both looked pretty pissed off, guys usually didn't earn smackings from girls unless they were doing something indecent. Her lips thinned into a frown, glad she had some backup from her team behind her. A little authority. Not a teacher, but whatever was starting here had to stop. "You okay?" She asked the girl, who broke her tense eye contact with the boy, flexing her fingers. She must have hit him pretty hard, then. The girl was nodding slowly.

"Yeah."

Before she could even ask what happened, the boy snorted in disgust and stalked away, bumping into one or two of the stragglers and shoving them aside as he headed out the front doors, dissapearing into the remaining daylight. Mai slowly struggled to straighten herself, rubbing her palm and feeling the sting of it. How could he? How dare he? Awful...just awful...dammit...it wasn't really fighting, he deserved it, but...dammit.

"You sure you're all right?" her rescuer asked, looking worried as she peered around to Mai's face, a hand up as though to touch her shoulder in sympathy. "You look kind of shaken up. He didn't do anything to you, did he?"

"What a jerk," one of the other girls commented, backing up to look out the doors; the area had been vacated since the scene was over, and was now just boring. "He's almost out the gate now though. You need someone to walk home with?" she continued to ask, looking as helpful as she could, the third girl nodding in resolute agreement.

Mai blinked, looking from face to face. They seemed to genuinely care. The two behind were staunchly agreeing with each other on their offer, and the rescuer was giving her a half smile. "He been bothering you a lot, then?"

"Something like that..." she managed, still a bit surprised at the offer, trying to place the girl. Hair up in a ponytail, some of it escaping to hang around her cheeks; wide almond eyes that looked far too trusting. Her voice, though, a minute ago, had a commanding ring to it, and Mai doubted that the girl was just a pushover. Still, there was something oddly familiar in the face, if not the action. Random help was always unexpected. Strangely welcome, though. "I guess...thanks..."

The older girl smiled at what she assumed as an end of the situation, and a request for a name. "I'm...Sa...Senrei. Ryoushi Senrei. Nice to meet you."

That rang bells. Duh. She'd never known which senior was the girls track team captain, but the name was known fairly well around the school. Ryoushi Senrei. Heck, practically a local celebrity. What a rescue. Getting those a lot lately, it felt like, directly or not. No wonder she seemed familiar. Must have seen her picture somewhere before. School paper or something. "Nice to meet you, Senrei-sempai. I'm Kuraino Mai. Tenth grade," she waved a hand towards the stairs she had descended before the fight.

Senrei nodded, then looked at her oddly, tilted her head to the side a bit, as though considering something, then thought the better of it, shrugging in dismissal. "You need someone to walk home with, or will that guy leave you alone?"

"Shoukon can rot for all I care," Mai grumbled. "No, I don't need anyone to help me. He usually just dissapears back to his hellhole after school, thank goodness." Looking back at Senrei, she finished, reminding herself she had better things to do than worry about Shoukon, "I'm meeting someone anyway. Thanks for the offer though, Senrei-sempai."

"Sure..." the older girl trailed, frowning at Mai's determined look for a second, then shook her head, smiling and waving, deciding to let it be. "Good luck." Then, to her friends, "Let's go."

They headed outside, the other two whispering something about Senrei's new boyfriend, and the ponytailed girl quickly trying to shush them.

Mai stood in the hallway, feeling the sting from her slap finally fade away. Boyfriends, huh? Weirdness. Oddly, with all that just happening, most of her apprehension about what was going to happen in the next few minutes had dissapeared. Whatever happened would happen. Not much she could do about it. A couple straggling students wanderered towards the exit, and Mai joined them, trailing. Ryoushi Senrei. She'd probably just seen her in the school newspaper or something. Slight case of deja vu or something. That was all. Now...chin up, back straight, composed expression, steady walk. Just a couple more minutes. Almost there. This time, without dealing with any disgusting jerks.

* * *

Students were streaming out of the front doors, and Kotaishi was rather impatiently waiting off to one side of the building, on the lawn, under a tree's rustling shade. Arms folded, he narrowly watched the crowd as it milled past, streaming out towards the sidewalk and street, hearing the chatter of the passersby. He wanted to find her before she saw him; see how she acted without being in front of him. See how much of who she was was actually pretense. Facade. Fakeness. He didn't want to believe those nightmare red eyes were hers, and yet the more he thought about it, the more certain he became. Still, it was a dream, just a dream, and that woman wasn't even human. It left a bad feeling in his chest anyway, and he wasn't really ready to pass by such a strange warning. If it was a warning. He leaned against the bark of the tree with his shoulder, eyes trying to pick out her figure among the mass.

Instead of finding her, he found one of his friends, emerging from the group and running over waving. Great, this wasn't exactly the time he wanted people hanging around. Especially not big mouthed people.

"Oy, Kotaishi! Wait a second!"

Kotaishi lifted an eyebrow, then went back to observing . "I'm standing still, Kimpatsu. What do you want?"

"Just to know if you wanted to come with Rika and me to get some food."

Kotaishi gave him a brief, bland look. "And I want to go get food with you and your girlfriend...why?"

Kimpatsu just shrugged and scratched the back of his head. Probably just trying to be nice. Either way, the fat lip he recieved from his little round with that Shoukon asshole was almost healed, Kotaishi noticed. The two of them had ended up with in school suspension yesterday, but Kimpatsu had been back in class that morning. Which meant Shoukon was as well. Would he start bothering Mai again? His frown deepened. He didn't really know the guy, but there was just something about him that irritated Kotaishi. Almost more than the dream.

"You looking for someone?" Kimpatsu asked after a moment, trying to get his attention by standing in front of him, blocking his line of view, face curious.

"Get out of my way," Kotaishi ordered, reaching out and pushing his friend lightly aside. This, though, just had the effect of lighting up the other's face, causing him to ramble excitedly:  
"You are waiting for someone! Who is she?"

Now getting annoyed, Kotaishi began, "Why are you assuming it's a..." he never got to finish. Kimpatsu was running with the idea.

"What does she look like? What's her name, do I know her? Is she hot? Is she in our grade? When did you-"

"Kimpatsu!" Kotaishi shouted, glaring, staring down the babbling boy, fists raised. "Shut up!"

"Eh..." Kimpatsu trailed. "Just wanted to know...you don't look pissed off enough to be after someone..."

Gritting his teeth, Kotaishi tried to calm down, stoutly folding his arms again and returning to watching the doors, trying to ignore Kimpatsu, who was now slowly trying to join him in his observation. There was no reason he had to be so touchy about it. It was annoying the way it was being put, but hell, it wasn't like he was surprised. He just didn't want to deal with it. Mai was not his girlfriend. She was...uh...something. But not that! No...even though...grah. No no no. Just looking this time, no touchy-feely stuff. That could turn really bad, really quick.

What was taking so long, anyway? The crowd was thinning out. She wasn't at the gate...she'd better not be standing him up on this. Not after all the crap he went through that morning to find her damn locker number. She couldn't be absent...she could have gotten a cold or something. No, she couldn't be absent. Putting this off another day would just drive him crazy.

A boy suddenly began shoving his way out the doors, heading down the steps and barrelling his way towards the street. Kimpatsu's evil glare at the figure was enough confirmation for Kotaishi...that was Shoukon. He frowned again, not liking that much. Somehow he expected Mai to be not far behind, and, after the passing of another minute or two, was proven right. She was trailing another group of girls, but not with them. Kimpatsu must have sensed him straightening up, because he began to peer forward, trying to get a better look at the newest student outside the school. "That's her?" he pointed. "With the short hair? What's that in it?"

Kotaishi rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that's her. And it's a feather. Go find Rika."

Kimpatsu was paying no attention, and was instead appraising Mai. "Not bad, not bad, nice legs, you could do a lot worse..."

The sound of knuckles cracking loudly before they formed into a fist made him pale, then skitter away, frantically repeating, "Joke! A joke! I'm going! Really!" as he backed up and finally headed off the way he came. Idiot. Kotaishi coughed, clearing his throat, then shoved his hands into his pockets and affected a slight slouch, strolling as casually as he could towards Mai, who had stopped at the gate, and was looking around, biting her lip absently.

Did she think he'd left already? She didn't seem to be completely relaxed; or had she had the misfortune of meeting her enemy inside the doors? With the attitude in the way he was walking, it was quite possible. "Oy, Mai."

She started, and he caught the tiny flash of relief on her face. In turn, it relaxed him a bit, giving him something to start with, at least. "You okay? You look a little spooked."

Her eyes widened fractionally, and then she looked down with a grimace, casting a quick glance up and down the street. Yeah, she'd definitely had a run in with that Shoukon jerk. Again. Obviously she was trying to hide it and doing a lousy job. What was that about anyway? Had to be a persistent problem. What was the cause?

Finally, she shrugged, turning back to him. "Nothing I can't deal with," she told him, sounding resigned to the task, despite its unpleasantness. Then she asked, changing the mood as she lifted her eyebrows in what she hoped to be cute query, "What did you want to meet me for?"

Well, there it was. Her face, looking straight up into his, with an affected look of sweetness there. Still, it wasn't the fake, plastic sweetness of a monster smiling before a kill, but of a girl trying to look composed and cute for a boy. Her cherrywood eyes were round and large, the feather in her headband curling around the curve of her face and fluttering slightly, softly. They were not red, her eyes. There was no cruel smile on her lips and there was no tearing, biting, ripping wind that he felt from before. It wasn't her. Mai wasn't her...she was different. That other person was heartless, cruel, mean, viscious...someone he was supposed to hate. There was no maliciousness there. Mai was going to be a pain in the ass at times, he could tell, but she wasn't evil. Evil people didn't have to deal with bullying boys in their classes- they were the bullies. Evil people didn't look as funny as Mai did running around in the rain. She wasn't who he thought she was.

"Kotaishi?"

He blinked. "What?"

The sweet look turned a little skeptical. "What do you mean what? You're staring at me." Puzzled, she began patting her nose then checking her hand. "I don't have something on my face do I?"

He blanched. Dumbass! What a brilliant strategy, get her locker number, stick the note in, meet her after school to make sure she wasn't that demonic dream woman, and then realize he hadn't thought about what to say _after he'd met her!_ Shit! Right idea, lack of follow up. Damnit, damnit...when did his brain suddenly decide to turn to mush? "I...uh..." he stuttered, trying to figure out what to say. There had to be something. If he asked her to go somewhere, then she'd assume, probably rightly, that they were dating. There had to be something! What had they talked about yesterday?

"Are you okay?" she was staring at him with a questioning look.

"I...I quit smoking!" Finally! Good! Uh, now what?

She arched an eyebrow, looking expectant. It looked like he was just standing there like a dope, not knowing what to say. What'd he call her out there for? Just to look at her? This didn't seem like a scene to get dumped at...no other girlfriends then, that was good to know. But he really didn't seem to have a clue on what to do. Somehow that seemed a little off. Was he waiting for her to say something? "Okay..." she prompted, waiting for him to continue again, and when he didn't she sighed testily, "What, do you want me to kiss you right here to see if you're lying?"

His eyes all but bugged out, but he seemed to finally get ahold of himself again, folding his arms stoutly and trying to glower, but only managing a pout. "Don't be stupid."

It wasn't stupid, it as a damn fine comeback and he knew it. That was why he looked so freaked out. He couldn't possibly be scared could he? It didn't seem right for him, but he was acting kind of strange. What in the world was running through his head to make him act like that? Was talking to her really that unsettling? She wasn't sure how to take that...maybe no girlfriend, but the fluke thing could still be real...it seemed kind of odd to think of yesterday as something that 'just happened,' even if it did. Suddenly unsure, she decided to make this clean cut. If he did want to see her again, he'd either stop her or come with...if not, then...he was the prince of idiots and she could certainly do better!

Mai turned and started walking away, hoping that this gamble might pay off. If not...then she was cutting her losses, at least. As she hoped, he immediately called, "Oy! Where are you going?"

She shrugged coolly. "Home. What else am I supposed to do if you just wanted to stare at me? I'm still the same as I was yesterday." With that, she turned back towards her destination, held her breath, and started walking forward, slowly. Baka. Baka baka. He was probably too thick to get the hint, too...

Kotaishi watched her retreating back, strolling easily along the sidewalk. He'd personally called her out there and she was just going to walk off? How dare she do that to him?

"You can come if you want," she called over her shoulder a moment later. Come if he wanted? Sarcastic, snotty, stuck up...pain in the ass...girl who was making a complete idiot of him. Not in front of anyone, though. Not publicly. What was he supposed to do, anyway? Go find Kimpatsu and sit around with him and _his_ girlfriend? What kind of scene would that be? No way. Mai kept him jumping all the time...he couldn't lose to her. It was almost a competition. Who could defeat who? Looking at her back, noticing the slow step, he began to smile. She wanted him to follow her, otherwise she wouldn't have called back to him again, and wouldn't be walking with a snail's pace down the street. Okay. He could handle that.

Putting on his best reluctant, self-sacrificing expression, he sighed dramatically, then started following her. He'd figure out a way to get her back eventually. A moment later, his steps were falling alongside hers, and he slowly began to pick up the pace to a normal walk. "Well, I did call you out here...it was a real pain finding out where you keep your stuff, too."

The look he got in return was a bit surprised, then, a moment later, replaced with a hesitant, sly smile. "I hope it wasn't too much of an inconvenience."

He shrugged, as though it were nothing at all. "Not really. Had to deal with some gossipy girls from your class though."

She actually laughed, rolling her eyes. "Aw, poor baby."

It was quiet for a moment as they walked along, and Kotaishi began to place about where they were. The park was a few streets down one way, and she was veering them in the other direction; not too hard to find, then, since it wasn't too far from the school. They'd be there in a couple minutes. The big brick building would be easy to spot in a little while. He kept feeling her eyes flicking to him. "What?"

They were away again, immediately, locked ahead, and her voice was toneless. "You want something to eat? It's almost dinner."

Far be it from him to turn away free food. What were they having? "Your mom cooking?" She suddenly stopped walking, and he almost went past her without noticing. "Mai?"

Her expression was deathly still, and then she shrugged, brows furrowing into a determined look, and she tucked her feather behind her ear as she started moving again, this time at a brisk pace, strides longer as though she were trying to forget something in the motion. "My Mom is dead. I live with Kagami-oneechan at that apartment complex. She's probably still at work."

Somehow, he hadn't expected that. Mai looked too...prissy, or something...clean cut, well off...proper...to be lacking family members. The way she said it made it sound like it was bad; not a lamenting, 'It was a long time ago, it's okay' reaction, but a terse changing of the subject. He decided to lay off of it, since it really didn't seem like she wanted to open up about that. Mai didn't seem the type to start wailing on anyone's shoulders, either. His parents could be idiots sometimes, but at least they were still there. So she lived with her sister. Where was her father, if her mother was gone? "So..." he tried awkwardly, hoping to keep the subject away from family, "how sick am I going to be after eating whatever you make?"

She shot him a glare, though he noticed there really wasn't any venom in it. Especially since that was a relatively lame attempt at conversation. "I can cook just fine. Onee-chan used to work a lot of weird retail hours and take out gets too expensive. It was learn to cook or die of starvation."

Trying to fit that into his perception of her, he nodded. So she could cook. Didn't look the type, but he guessed it made sense. If she wanted to be independent, being able to make food was pretty essential. Or, well, like she said...die of starvation. He'd probably die.

It took a few more minutes of steady walking, but they finally made it to the red brick apartments, cutting across the grass and heading into what he learned was a slight labrynith of cramped but whitewashed clean hallways.

"I'm home," Mai sighed as they stepped into the apartment on the second floor, welcomed by a slightly stuffy swoosh of air. No sound greeted them, and once Mai had kicked off her shoes, she poked her head into the empty kitchen. "Still at work, then...could you shut the door, Kotaishi?"

Standing in the single hallway, he did as she asked, locking the door behind him though leaving the bolt alone. Bookcases were lined against one wall, all filled though not overflowing, with framed pictures of what he assumed to be a young Mai and her sister looking at the camera. Small, decorative mirrors had been staggered higher against the wall, and he could see his reflection move across them as he headed towards the living room. Mai was already setting her satchel down on the coffee table. Everything was so neat there...definitely a girls apartment. Oversized comfy couch, a small television in one corner and a pile of books next to a currently unused space heater. It smelled a little like furniture polish.

"Just don't start lighting any cigarettes in here, okay?" she told him, a real tone of warning in her voice. What, didn't she believe him earlier?

"I told you I quit."

Mai chuckled, sifting through her books idly, though paying more attention to him than she let on. "That was quick off the bandwagon there, Kotaishi. I always thought quitting smoking was difficult and involved a lot of chewing gum and complaining."

"Very funny, Mai," he intoned sourly, folding his arms and glaring at her. Maybe this was incredibly stupid of him after all. He hadn't wanted to do anything other than just look at her. Make sure she wasn't that nightmare woman from his dream, with those damnable crimson eyes. He repressed a shudder. She wasn't her. There was no way. That woman...wasn't even human, he was sure of it. Red eyes and that stuck up prissy attitude, the bitch...damnit, he didn't even know who she was supposed to be and he was mentally cussing her out. It was ridiculous, through and through. Still, the same kind of subdued anger insisted on boiling under the surface of his thoughts when he looked at Mai, who seemed genuinely amused at his discomforture, and unaware of the thread of fury starting to weave through his thoughts. That anger was entrancing, and he wanted to understand it better, know where the hell it was coming from...and why she kept bringing it out with that amused, if slightly haughty expression of hers. "I didn't know you cared so much about my lungs."

She laughed, straightening up and turning away from her books. In that instant, the haughty attitude he loathed suddenly vanished, and she seemed to enjoy the banter. He supposed, on some level, he did as well. Most of his friends didn't argue with him; sometimes he liked it that way, letting him be in charge, but there was a lack of challenge in it. Kotaishi liked that concept...Mai was, if nothing else, a challenge. A frustrating, infuriating, beautiful challenge. And there really was no reason for him to hate her so, other than some silly dream last night, where she looked like some kind of demon woman. Or some demon woman looked like her. Whichever. Here he stood, in her apartment, offerered dinner made by the hands of a girl who he had kissed the evening before. She couldn't be all bad. Or even bad at all. So she could be snippy, who cared? Better than being some helpless wimpy girl who blathered about nonsense all the time. In the end, he supposed, that was why he wanted to kiss her yesterday. Some part of him liked that.

He found himself smiling as she walked over to him, shaking her head. "Shall we test you out, then?" she grinned, leaning up on her toes and cupping his face in her hands, pulling him down to meet her before he could react. After a moment, his folded arms opened, and this time the embrace was not as awkward, though both still tried to fit to each other, finding a comfort against the other's body as to enjoy the warm, light kiss that was deepening so rapidly. She felt him press her closer, one hand between her shoulders and the other in the small of her back, bringing her up to him and making her feel light, some of her weight carried by his arms. Her own slender arms slipped around his neck, a hand tangled in his hair and holding his head in place. She worried for an instant that that furious face would appear in her mind again, but she let herself dissapear into the swelling of warmth that was surrounding her and pressing against her, growing more demanding as his grip tightened. No strange faces in her mind...just this, like she wondered about in class when she got his note. He did like her...her, Kuraino Mai, the girl with the feather in her hair.

She smiled into his kiss, and he drew back a little, puzzled at the sudden change in the shape of her mouth. His politely bewildered look just caused her to smile wider, and he understood, smiling in return, all thoughts of that demon woman lost in that most lovely, rare warm smile of hers. After a moment, she ducked her head and lowered herself to the flats of her feet, her cheek pressed against his chest, their arms still wrapped around the other. She knew her heart was beating fast, feeling the rapid rhythm of it inside her, and felt giddily pleased that she could feel his thumping hard as well against her ear. She was right, he liked her, he actually did. Someone was interested in her...liked _her_. So what if he wasn't some polished pretty boy? There was something to be said for that roughness he had. Kinda sexy. She tried not to giggle, she hated that, but one light one escaped her lips anyway.

"What?" he asked, amused, tucking her head under his chin and feeling generally pleased with himself over her satisfied reaction.

What should she say? I feel silly? I like you, even if you're a million miles from being the type I thought I liked? You're warm? You make me feel strange? Your breath is better do you use Colgate or Crest? Damn that was a nice kiss, let's do it some more?

She was very tempted to say the last one just to mess with him, but instead mananged, "I can hear your heart."

That earned a light chuckle, and she could feel it rumbling up through his chest, gently teasing her. "What, don't you have one?"

Her world shattered with those short words, so carelessly spoken.

Ice replaced the pocket of warmth they had formed between them, as though some chill wind filled the air and replaced it with winter. Roughly, she shoved him away, eyes narrowed as she nearly hissed, "Don't say things like that!"

Shocked at the sudden change in demeanor, he stared open mouthed at the violent reaction, the glaring face, the half bent, offensive posture, her arm once again beginning to stretch to the side as though she would strike him with her half closed hand. Anger began to boil up in him again; what the hell was wrong with her?

Mai watched as his expression quickly slipped from confusion to fury, hands coming up as though to ward off an attack, his stance changing. It had been a joke, just a joke, a comment made to her after saying something sweet. There was no reason for her to be so angry, there was no reason that she should suddenly feel like he had thrown a nasty insult in her face. But those words, she hated those words...don't you have one? Don't you have a heart? Of course she did! It was pumping so damn hard right now she thought she was going to pass out from the pressure of it, like someone was squeezing, squeezing, crushing, killing...

The hand that had been outstretched suddenly was brought in, clutching at the fabric of her uniform's blouse. Her breath began coming short. Don't you have a heart, Mai? Can't you feel it pounding? _Don't you know that if you don't obey..._

"Sorry..." she rasped, staggering. She had to get out of there. Had to get away from...from what? The air in the room, yes, it was stuffy in there, very very stuffy, shouldn't someone open a window? "I'll...I'll...the kitchen..." she managed, staggering past him towards the hallway and the cool tiles of the kitchen floor. If she could just get to the kitchen and make dinner like she said she would, that crushing feeling would eventually dissapear, and those red eyes that were watching...whose red eyes? No one was watching her, no one but Kotaishi, Kotaishi with his blue, blue eyes, and he had stopped looking angry with her, and now looked panicked. No, he shouldn't look panicked, or worried, she was strong, stronger than him, right? Supposed to take care of herself, even if she couldn't breathe, and her heart was being squeezed by some nightmare memory of a monster with bloody eyes and a cool expression that she wanted to murder. She hated him, hated that look, hated, hated, hated, "_That fucking bastard Naraku!"_

Someone was holding her up around the waist as she pitched forward into the kitchen, dizzy and glad that she slowly hit the ground, the pots and pans clattering around and falling in some torrent of wind...someone had opened a window, oh good, air, real air, sharp, biting air that could slice that smirk from Naraku's face, because his name was Naraku, whoever the hell he was, and he was slyly laughing at her and calling her a name that was her name, but not her name. _Kagura._

Worried blue eyes formed over her face, and she felt tears spring to her own in pain. She hated him, hated him, and he was supposed to hate her, why was he there?

It didn't matter anymore, because a moment later, she passed into the darkness.

* * *

Well, Kagura's got her memories back...or at least some of them. Enough for the fic, anyway. And Kouga's starting to get back some of his.  
Writing that meeting between Kanna and Sesshoumaru was...oro...this isn't a comedy scene, I couldn't just keep writing "..." every other line. How much do you think those two would talk if forced into a room together? -_-;

Also, a friend of mine provided a mini-omake after reading chapter 3, and since this was the next time Sesshoumaru showed up, I thought I would add it in here:

Rin: So Sesshoumaru-sama, if I'm here, and Kanna's here, where's Jaken-sama?  
_::across town, in an aquarium in a small pet shop, a toad sneezes::_  
Toad-Jaken: They're talking about me again...

Thanks go out to Nightstalker for the omake.  
Til next time.  
~Queen


	7. Kagura's Memories and a Late Call

_Good Karma_

_

* * *

_

_Chapter 6- Kagura's Memories and a Late Call_

Kotaishi walked fast along the sidewalk. Part of him didn't want to think about what had just happened at Mai's apartment; most of him, however, couldn't stop thinking about it.

_That fucking bastard Naraku._

He agreed. Why, he didn't know, mainly because he didn't know who 'Naraku' was, but he'd never agreed about anything as wholeheartedly before in his life. It made him feel a little ill. An hour had passed since Mai had passed out. She was sleeping, left on the couch after he decided he couldn't stand it in the room anymore. The walls were bending inwards, threatening to cave in and crush him if he didn't get out of there. Mai kept twitching in her sleep; she'd started to calm not long before he'd left, and he kept repeating to himself that she was fine, and that calling an ambulance was a bad idea. She wasn't sick. No. Not sick. It was something else. He didn't know what, but it was something else. Sick people didn't create hurricanes in their kitchens. How she did it was beyond his comprehension. But he knew it was her, undoubtedly was her. When she screamed, there was wind; torrents of it, if only for an instant, whipping open cabinets, scattering their noisy contents and sending a basket of fruit flying into the air. It was over as fast as it started, and he found himself standing in the middle of the narrow kitchen, holding up an unconscious girl and knee deep in pots and pans.

It took him a little while to decide to move. That kind of thing didn't exactly happen every day, and he was a little weirded out by it.

_Wind..._

Why didn't he like this at all? Not sure what to make of anything, he just kept walking, setting a breakneck pace for himself and hoping to distance himself from both the worry and the source of the worry.

Mai wasn't that nightmare woman. Mai was _not_ that nightmare woman.  
She...was not...  
that nightmare...  
woman...  
who tore apart everything...  
with biting blades...  
of wind...

He knew he was trying to convince himself.

If she was that woman...if she was that demon woman...who was he to hate her so much? Why did that...dream...just a _dream_...bother him so much? None of it made sense. They weren't his memories, he'd never seen any of those things happen...he'd never dug a grave, never lost a friend, never seen corpses rise and laugh at him. Those images were not like a dream. Dreamlike, but not a dream. Like memory. Something that had happened long ago, so very long ago.

Who was 'Naraku'? Who was Mai?

For that matter...who was he?

Somebody else? Who? Where the hell were these thoughts coming from? These memories? They felt too real to be unreal; it was insane but he knew these things happened as much he knew he went to his locker that morning and opened it, fiddling with the lock for a minute before it finally decided to open. Real. Solid. Tangible.

He looked around, trying to get his bearings. Right, left, back again. He'd looped all over the place, it felt like. Not that he was lost, but the trip seemed like a blur. Everything around him moving by so fast. Like it was...supposed to? Kotaishi grit his teeth and glared around him, hoping nobody was watching him make faces at whatever random thought was flitting through his head. Nobody to ask about it. Nobody except for Mai. Whoever she was.

No one was looking at him, and he grunted, running a hand through his hair. Just a couple people walking on the other side of the street, talking lowly. He frowned a little, unable to hear their conversation. Over a head taller than his companion, it only took Kotaishi a moment to recognize the man's face...boy's face. What the hell was Shoukon doing around here? Well, this was the local school district, he couldn't live too far away if he walked to school like most people. The thought of the guy living within walking distance of his own house was a little nauseating. Fucking bastard.

He shook his head. _That fucking bastard Naraku._ No, his name was Shoukon. What was the guy's family name? 'Naraku' would be a hell of a surname, but...it would kind of make sense. Though why Mai would make the mental leap between a kiss, a comment, and a use of what seemed like superpowers made no sense to him at all. Nothing made any sense. Frowning, he edged a little further towards the street corner, easing around it and out of sight of the couple walking down along the other side. He couldn't see their faces anymore. Who was he with, anyway? What girl in her right mind would be out for a stroll with him? They crossed the street then, and out of Kotaishi's sight. He folded his arms and leaned against the outer wall of one of the houses. All he could see was that she was small, female, and had long, white hair. Who had _white _hair except old people? Unnatural, that. Bleach or something. Weird.

Naraku. Shoukon. Was Shoukon Naraku? Why would Mai call him that though? The couple times she'd said his name, she called him 'Shoukon'...if 'Naraku' was his surname, then why the sudden change? Damn questions, no answers. He leaned his head against the wall, taking a deep breath. This was starting to give him a headache. Should he meet Mai again? Confront her? Ask her what she knew? Demand to know what was going on? If he did...then he at least had one valid question- "Who is Naraku?" He had to see her again.

He straightened up, and walked on. Mai would come to school eventually. He'd find her.

And ask her why he suddenly wanted to call her 'Kagura'.

* * *

The steps creaked underfoot, though the weight applied to them was very little. Kagami was, like her previous incarnation, small, though not as childsized as before. She was a full grown human, if a petite one. And a tired one. The verbal match with Sesshoumaru was more tiring than she'd expected; caution, so much caution. Such tenuous plans, hers. And then, of course, she had to meet with _him_ and discuss things. Blackness. Emptiness. Like she was inside of a tomb, dead.

She shuddered, looking behind her to be sure no one had seen; of course, the hallway was empty, all doors closed. An orange post-it was stuck to one of the doors, reminding the neighbor's husband to pick up milk for the baby. Kagami sighed and slid her key into the lock, stepped inside and managed a weary, "I'm home."

A lamp was lit in the living room, though no answer came. She slipped off her pumps and hung up her coat on the back of the door, locking it before she walked forward, freezing when she stepped parallel to the kitchen. All the cookware was out on the counter, piled haphazardly up, and the fruit basket was sitting on top of the stove. What in the world? Why would Mai have taken everything out just to leave it sitting around? Nothing was even dirty, there was no food anywhere. "Mai?" Another couple steps brought her to the living room, finding her younger sister lying on the couch, head on a pillow and the afghan pulled snugly over her shoulders. A window had been cracked open. Mai's face, in her sleep, was scrunched up, dreams unpleasant.

Kagami lifted her hands and clasped them to her for a moment. There was a feeling of wrongness in the air, palpable and certain. She stepped forward, hesitating and looking at herself in the decorative round mirror she'd long ago hung over the sofa, seeing her reflection. It was so still. Without smile, without frown. Empty, like before. She knelt down and woke Mai from her nightmares.

The face she opened her eyes to was impassive, pale white and silent. But it was her sister, and she was so glad there was somebody there. Anybody. Anybody at all. "'Nee-chan," she whimpered softly, her face screwing up as she tried not to cry. "I don't feel very good." Kagami's hand was cool on her forehead, and the gesture felt so familiar and reassuring. When she got sick, she told her big sister who came and took her temperature, and then got some medicine from the old mirrored cabinet over the sink, told her she'd make sure everyone knew she was sick, that she should rest, and then let her sleep everything away. In a day or two, she always felt better. Kagami-oneechan never seemed to get sick. Kagami-oneechan never killed people. Kagami-oneechan never hurt anyone. Kagami-oneechan...never hurt anyone...and smiled...while she did it.

Mai remembered being a monster.

She bit her lip so hard it split and began to bleed, but she hung on to her elder sister, shaking and trying not to scream. Kagami's hands rested very lightly on her back, patting, though she remained silent until the trembling began to slow, and the hiccuping stopped. "You do remember, don't you, Mai-chan?"

The words were so gentle she barely heard them, barely connected them to her sister's voice, barely registered them as what they were. Her fists unclenched from where they were gripping the jacket sleeves of Kagami's suit. She couldn't look at Kagami's black eyes. Those eerie eyes that never really frightened her before. She never really needed to hide anything from her sister before. But now she felt so ugly. Her words were ragged little whispers. "I couldn't stop...it wasn't my fault...I didn't mean to...I had to...I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"It was not...your fault, Kagura."

Her head moved upward in tiny hesitant jerks, and she forced herself to look at Kagami's face. "Kagura...I killed people. I remember killing people. I don't know how, but I remember making them hurt other people." Her words grew suddenly frantic. "And I thought it was _fun!_"

That was what scared her. Fighting for life, defending self, fighting for an ideal, yes, she understood that. Dying for that, sacrificing for that. She'd seen it and read about it in countless movies, history books, stories, legends, down the course of her life. But killing was not supposed to be fun. She remembered the rush of it, the heady feeling of the wind flowing around her, whirling and spinning, moving across the space between her and her targets, and loving the feeling of ease, the feeling of power, the feeling of control over the lives of others, the lives of many men. That was not natural. What kind of person was she? That was her, her feelings, her emotions, her life. They were hers. And she liked it.

Kagami began to pull away, standing and looking at the mirror above the couch. She leaned forward, pulled it off its hook, and set herself down on the coffee table, as Mai sat up, gripping her own arms tightly, as though holding herself together physically would keep her together mentally. She watched Kagami run her slender fingers around the outer frame of the mirror. She'd always collected mirrors, Mai knew. It was her hobby, her collection. Part of her name. Sometimes, she felt like looking around the apartment was like being in a house of mirrors at a circus. Different angles, different views, different perspectives, all around her, of herself. Mai never understood the preoccupation with mirrors. Sometimes, they reflected things she didn't like to see.

Kagami's hair hung heavily down on either side of her face, cloaking it, leaving only a narrow portion to view. "Do you remember the night, when our parents died?"

"Onee-chan..." Mai began, shaking her head.

"Do you?"

"What does this have to do with anything?" she demanded, her fear twisting into anger. Kagami knew something. She always knew everything. Knowing about this was not strange; it was Kagami. Of course she knew. Knew what to do. Knew who Mai was. She called her Kagura, with the most hollow voice she had ever spoken with. Another person's voice. Another person's eyes. She clenched her fists, nails pressing into her palms. "It was dark. And quiet. I couldn't breathe."

"We were in the closet until the next evening," Kagami told her, a finger tracing the surface of the mirror, round and round and round and round it went, until the glass wasn't glass and instead was a smooth plate of icewater, beginning to turn and ripple under the touch of white Kanna's hand.

"I don't want to talk about that now!"

"You have to see the beginning. This beginning. Before you know about Naraku."

Kagura stilled, looking at the grey clad form sitting across from her. Her sister, but not her sister. Not the sister she knew, not the sister who she grew up with. Another sister. Smaller. With the same white hair. "Kanna."

The cycling hand did not pause in its motions. "Look. See the way I began to remember." She didn't want to see, didn't want to look. But in this lifetime, magic was magical because it was rare, something usually credited to parlor tricks and sleight of hand; this was magic of a different sort, of a real sort, and her gaze drew inexplicably downward, towards the circling hand and the rippling glass, showing things through the eyes of a young Kuraino Kagami.

Inside the mirror was a place Mai did not remember. She had been little more than a toddler when her parents died. Within the circle of Kanna's hands was the view of a room, a little girls room, soft pastels and lacy white curtains with unicorns dancing around on the rainbow colored bedspread, stuffed animals cascading off the pillow and onto the floor. There was a white dresser with an unlit lamp on one corner and a big mirror over it, a little unicorn sticker in one corner, leaping upward.

The door to the room was open, and though there was no sound coming from the round looking glass, Kagura knew there was noise coming through that doorway, screaming and shouting, crashing and breaking sounds. And then silence. Long silence. Silence that stretched for ages. The scene of the door switched back and forth, sometimes visible, other times not, as the young Kagami kept ducking back into the closet they hid in, keeping the door nearly shut. Clothes brushed against their heads and lifted their hair with static electricity. The hanging shapes were unclear in the darkness, and it was hot and stuffy and sweaty and scary.

She wanted to believe it wasn't real. She was caught up in a horror movie in the silence. The closet door slid open fractionally, creeping open. There was a flash of a childish, frightened face; her own, through Kagami's eyes. Huge eyes plaintive in her pale face, begging. _Don't leave,_ they said. _Don't leave me alone. I'm scared. Don't leave me alone locked up in here._

A little hand on a littler face, an attempt at reassurance. Then the vision in the mirror saw the door close, wood replacing the uneven darkness of the clothing shapes. Past the dresser, through the doorway. Down on hands and knees, peer around carefully, so carefully, don't be seen. Being seen could be scary. Not knowing could be scarier. Everything inside Kagami's unicorn decorated room, her clean, neat, orderly big room, was so different from outside. Placing her hand at the bottom of the door, she snatched her hand back and winced, seeing a trickle of blood at the base of her palm. Something bit her. A nail, poking up from under the lush carpet?

No. A little sliver of glass. Mother decorated the hallways with pretty pictures, old paintings with heavy, classy frames. In that upstairs hallway, though, Mother had a giant, rectangular mirror hung over a decorative table, and the leafy potted plant on it had fallen over. The mirror lay shattered on the ground. The table had fallen over. The plant was on Mother's clean white carpet, and there was dirt everywhere, spilling down the stairs. Oh, had that been her or Mai-chan, then they'd be in a world of trouble. But it wasn't Kagami or Mai-chan. Mother and Father were nowhere in sight. The house was silent. Everything in the world was silent.

Careful, so careful, to edge her way forward, Kagami dared to slide forward on the thin fabric of her cotton pajamas, watching to see where any other shards of glass may have fallen around her. A few drops of her blood smeared on the already dirtied carpet. She crawled forward, and pressed her head against the railing, leaning against the posts like Mother told her not to, because one could break someday and she could tumble all the way down and break her neck.

They had a big house. It was a nice house, too. The chandelier in the foyer was all lit up, and there was a warm, golden ambiance illuminating the scene where Mother lay at the foot of the stairs with her body jutting at a very strange angle while Father looked down at her.

Kagami was a little girl but she knew people weren't supposed to bend that way.

She gagged and fell back onto her butt, and it was very loud in the silence.

Nothing else was loud.

She was crying. And scared. And aware of somebody scary approaching. She was going to go down those stairs too. Or maybe just through the railing, like Mother always said she would if she wasn't careful. She'd break her neck on the hard tiles, just like Mother said she would if she wasn't careful. She could see her broken reflection in the shards of fractured glass. A thousand white faces looking back at her. All distorted. Broken up. Her black eyes were swelling and red, getting puffy as she looked at the largest shard, such a pretty shard of shiny glass. So pretty. So very pretty. Images in mirrors were just images; they weren't full of fear. They were just reflections.

She looked at her reflection in that large shard. Kagami knew what her name meant. She liked mirrors. Sometimes she'd make funny faces in them and think how silly she was. The mirror would laugh along with her, but it didn't really feel anything. It just copied her. People in mirrors didn't have souls.

Father's red face joined hers. His mouth was moving fast but nothing came out but silence. Kagami wondered if maybe the mirrors would like to have souls. They liked copying everything so much; it was the one thing they couldn't imitate. It couldn't be that hard, to catch one. Like catching fireflies in the summer. She picked up the awkward shard of glass, feeling it slice into her skin and blood dribble down onto its surface. Father looked angry, that's what that emotion was. He was very angry. She'd seen him angry so many times before. That's why she knew to hide in the closet, behind the clothes, and under her pile of old stuffed animals and Barbie dolls. She was still little enough to make it look like nothing was there.

She held up the reflection, and then released it. Father fell to the carpet like a little rag doll dropped. He lay very very still on the ground, and Kagami looked into her big shard of glass. So she had done it. Her hands were bleeding in twin streams where she gripped the mirror's edge. Interesting. She could steal people's souls. Lock them in mirrors.

That was...nice.

Outside the memory, Mai's stomach heaved.

The images rippled and changed, and then Kagami stood, turned, and walked back into her unicorn dappled room, slid open the door, sat down, gathered up Mai, closed the door...and screamed.

Mai shoved off the shawl around her shoulders. It was so hot in that room. She put a hand to her mouth and tried not to hurl up her lunch.

"You are not alone," Kanna said, with complete calmness. Mai squeezed her waist with a hand, clutched the knitted blanket with the other so tightly she thought she might ruin it. "This was the first time. Many years passed before I could do this," she lifted her hand from the edge of the mirror in her lap and tapped its center. "Your soul is the same. Once your memories begin to return, they will not stop. You will want them to, but they will not stop."

"I think I'm going to be sick."

The eyes that looked up at her then seemed more human. "I have done my best, to keep what is within you silent." Her eyes closed, and her head hung. "I failed. I'm sorry."

White hair hid her face, and her hands were motionless on the edges of the mirrorframe. Mai didn't know what was going on. She did, but she didn't. She knew, somehow, impossibly, she was remembering things of another life, an impossible life, but a real life. Any doubt she had was chased away by the summoning of the terrible images in Kanna's mirror. She didn't know why. She didn't understand why. It was something she had to know. If the memories would not stop, then she needed to know. To make sense of things. To know what to expect. To brace herself. She had murdered people. No, she didn't believe that. Yes, she did. At least, she believed there had to be a reason. Some motive for it. She absolutely did not believe she would kill just for the joy of killing. Maybe, maybe, that reason justified what she had done. Maybe the memory was partial; maybe they were horrible enemies and she needed to defend herself.

But it was still fun.

She shuddered and steeled herself, preparing for whatever truth she was about to hear. Onee-chan didn't lie to her.

"Who was I? Who was Kagura, Kagami-oneechan?"

The liquid glass rippled again, and new shapes and colors began to form from the murk. Kanna's voice dropped to a scratchy whisper. "To explain that, I shall begin at the beginning." Inside the crystal mirror, the world slipped and slided, finally whirling into a glowing ball of iridescent light. "Long ago, there was a jewel, a little sphere called Shikon no Tama. In that time, the jewel was shattered." Within the mirror, the head of an arrow pierced the glassy surface, and light blossomed from the point. "Its breaking was an accident, caused by a young miko, a girl named Kagome."

Onto the mirror's surface spun the figure of a young girl with long black hair, and dressed in the unmistakable uniform of a modern day school. Kagura, watching, sucked in her breath sharply, clutching at the front of her own blouse, feeling the red fabric of the neck-scarf twirl between her fingers. She couldn't be any older than Kagura. A little younger, most likely. "But, she's...her clothes, she's..."

"Her appearance in the sengoku jidai was unexpected and unexplained," Kanna continued, her voice monotone and not open to questioning. Kagura gripped the front of her collar tighter, close lipped as behind Kagome, a similar figure in traditional clothing appeared in the shadows. "Believed to be the reincarnation of the miko Kikyou, it has since been discovered that she was incarnated into this time, and traveled back through a still unknown source.

"The girl Kagome freed a half-blooded inuyoukai named Inuyasha. The two of them sought the pieces of the fractured tama." Swinging around, the image of Kikyou faded away, and instead Kagome with a large backpack and a young man in red clothing walked towards her, the Inuyasha one with arms folded and looking grumpy.

"Others joined them," Kanna continued as a small figure with a bushy tail appeared on Kagome's shoulder, then, behind them, a man in the robes of a monk, and a woman in traveling gear. "All sought the shard fragments, but in the end, the relevance of collecting these pieces changed; the goal was, instead, the demise of Naraku."

A reaching hand grasped the too bright light of the Shikon no Tama, replacing the image of the travelers. As that hand drew closer to its owners' body, Kagura forced her eyes to remain open. A man stood there, a calm man with a dead smile, and the blood red eyes that haunted the depths of her mind for the last several days. There seemed to be nothing in that vision except for eyes; cold, amused, calculating eyes that showed nothing inside.

"This was our father."

Kagura's head snapped up and the nausea she'd been trying to ignore returned. Kanna was not looking at her, but at the images she was creating in the glass, with the emptiest of expressions. She scowled. Revolting. Sickening. She couldn't possibly be related to something as...gross...inhuman...filthy...as that _thing._ "That..._monster_...is not..."

"Once a human, he sold his soul to lesser youkai, in order to heal a badly injured body. The result was the creation of the half-youkai Naraku, who sealed away the soul of the human he had been created from." A large cesspool churned into the mirror, filled with heads and tails and fangs, snarling and biting each other. "As he aged and advanced, Naraku strengthened himself by taking in new youkai, and removing the impurities of the weaker ones. As a side effect of this process, Naraku created new youkai, independent detachments of himself and useful as servants."

The youkai faded, and were replaced by a small, white figure that glowed against the darkness. Tiny, pale, with a mirror almost as large as its holder, Kagura simply looked at Kanna, and then the figure again. It could have been Kagami as a ten year old, dressed in an old fashioned white kimono, her face schooled to perfect stillness. Her eyes looked dead, as they did in the old snapshots from that time. Like there was nothing inside.

"Kanna was first and eldest. Then came Kagura, the Wind User."

There was no time for her to turn her head away, and even if she had wanted to, she knew she could not. Into the mirror, standing beside the little white woman emerged her own face, her own figure, dressed in red and blue and white kimono, holding a closed up fan in one hand. Blood drained from her face, she looked into the red eyes she had owned in the past, and shook her head vehemently. They were not like Naraku's. They were the same color, maybe, but they were _not_ like them. They were bitter, they were hard, but they were not reflective of that ungodly cruelty. That was, at least, a tiny relief. She breathed deeply. She was not like that monster. She was different. No dead eyes. They were alive. There was that, at least. She squeezed her eyes shut, hands over them, knowing what happened next through her own memories. She didn't want to see it played out before her, as well.

Inside the mirror, the events of a trap for Inuyasha, Kagome, and their friends replayed. Dead men rose and fought, bodies battered already, only to be knocked around further as the confused group in the center tried to avoid the mess of undead attacking. There was blood, old, blackened blood on the ground, and then she pressed her fingertips into the skin of her forehead, knowing the next thing to happen would be the arrival of the leader of those men.

At that time, his name was Kouga.

What a complete idiot she was. What a complete and total idiot. Had she known a little sooner, she would have avoided him at the park. Avoided him at school. Baka. He was her enemy, he hated her, and what the hell did she do but invite the dolt over after school and let him be around right when she crashed full force into her memory. Even if he didn't know who she was, it didn't matter. She was Kagura, he was Kouga, they were enemies, and that was how things were supposed to be.

"And I was defeated by that Inuyasha guy, in the end," she mumbled, finally opening her eyes. "Stop."

But Kanna didn't stop. "Inside Naraku's room rested two jars," she continued, the figure across from her looking resolutely at the blank television in the corner. "Had his order to lay the trap been disobeyed, your heart would have been removed from it and crushed."

_I can hear your heart._

_What, don't you have one?_

"My..." she tried bringing her gaze back to Kanna, managing it only with effort. Her voice was thick and she kept choking over her words. "My...what?"

_Don't say things like that!_

"As a means of control for the two eldest detachments, their hearts were removed at their creation and kept as insurance against any disobedience."

_That fucking bastard Naraku!_

She really thought she was going to be sick, but was afraid that if she stood, she'd just collapse. That wasn't something she wanted to do right then. Her hand snaked its way to her chest, and there was a steady, if fast, beat beneath her ribs. She was not under that bastard's control. Not anymore. She was free.

Like she always wanted.

Kanna stood, the mirror in her lap growing still as she set it aside on the coffee table. "Oyasumi nasai."

Kagura sat, alone in the room, reassuring herself that she did, indeed, have a heartbeat.

* * *

It was the darkened light above her bed that Sango saw first when her eyes snapped open. She shivered, squirming down a little deeper into her blanket, shifting around. Sometime during her slumber, she'd tossed her arms up and they were over her head on the pillow. She clasped it, turning on her side and looking at the red glow of the time on her bedstand. It was already one in the morning, and many of her dreams were troubled with images of blood. Every time she dozed off, her current preoccupation with remembering what she could came drifting to the surface; images and feelings from a long time ago, things she'd forgotten and that were slipping steadily back into her mind. In her half asleep state, random pictures she couldn't connect together danced around, nonsensical, with words and conversations she couldn't fully recall when a noise brought her back to consciousness. A car passing by outside, usually. Her curtains were drawn, but a little light from the outdoor streetlamps shone through, making shadows out of her furniture.

Slipping one of her arms down from where they rested on the pillow, she covered her face. Some of the dreams were good; she knew and recognized Miroku easily now; there were also clear memories of Shippou. He'd grown a lot in the last five hundred years. She wasn't sure what was stranger; thinking of him as a child or thinking of him as an adult. She was fairly sure she'd recognize Kagome if she saw her, but even if she did, which was possible, she should stay away. She'd probably seen one too many science fiction movies...words like 'temporal paradox' now suddenly seemed like bizarre reality. Inuyasha...Inuyasha she was still uncertain of. He was still a bit out of focus, a big red and white blur.

Sango looked at the time again, frowning. Red letters, bright in the face of the alarm clock. It wasn't cold in her room, though she could feel the coolness of sweat on her sheets. The room was stuffy. A young boy kept emerging in the broken bits of memory she had, and she knew that was why she felt so uneasy. She shifted on the mattress, and a stab of pain lanced through her back, making her wince.

She remembered threads of silk gushing out of the mouth of a giant spider, huge and ugly. There were others there with her, she could feel their presences in the dream. One, the leader...he was important. He looked blurrily like Dad. Sango rubbed sleep from her eyes. No, that was Dad. At least, it was her Dad then. There were men watching, armed, standing around a rickety looking rich man with a bony face.

Hiraikotsu...above her face, she looked at her right palm, and traced the places where the ghosts of calluses lay. She made a fist. It had been a good throw, she knew. The monster was dead, but that was not the end of things.

Even when the creature crashed to the ground, carved up by the weapons of the taiji-ya, there was a feeling of wrongness. Metal rattled, and the sick sound of a sickle slicing into skin smacked through the air. There was a boy with them, holding a bloodied kusara kama in hand. His eyes were vacant, and she remembered a shiny piece of thread trailing from him to the bony faced man.

Then there was pain, and she woke up again, to lie there and try to make sense of it all. Sango sat up in bed, kicking the covers off. It really was stuffy in there, and warm. Bare feet on the ground, she smoothed out the oversized shirt that served as her pajamas, pushing her mussed hair out of her eyes. Some water, with ice, would be good. Her room could air out for a few minutes, and she could try sleeping with a clear head.

When she got to the hallway, she found that Chinsei's door was open, and there was light filtering through the gap. Sango sighed, poking her head in. Her brother really didn't know when to quit sometimes. Then she smiled and shook her head when she saw him, sitting at his desk, head crashed into the middle of a book, pencil in hand, mouth open, and ready to start drooling. He had his study lamp on overhead, but apparently the light wasn't enough to keep him alert. Silently, she padded into the room on her toes, picked up the jacket he'd left on his bed, and draped it over his shoulders, tucking the sleeves around his waist.

Over his shoulder, she looked at her older brother, freckle faced and looking so young in his sleep. Did everyone look younger when they slept peacefully? Even crammed up against a textbook? Sango's brows drew together and her exasperated smile turned into a serious frown. She felt like the big sister, taking care of him like that. Chinsei wouldn't have liked being a taiji-ya. He was too...peaceful. Studious. He had always preferred his books and his studying, though when he was young, he still played often enough.

Sango felt cold again, and she backed away from Chinsei, asleep in his chair. She touched the sore place on her back, wishing it had come from just lying the wrong way while she turned in her sleep. All she could see was the back of his head and his profile, from where she stood. He looked very young. Like he should have been younger than her.

"Kohaku, what did they do to you?"

Chinsei sniffed in his sleep and mumbled something incoherent, dropping his pencil as he moved. It rolled and fell to the floor. She knew there would be bad memories as well as the good. She'd been told there would be many bad to go along with the good. Edging away from the sleeping figure, she leaned against the doorframe. So far, she'd remembered lots of good things, pleasant things, though she wasn't quite ready to tell all of them to her audience of two. Some were still a little too personal, a little too blushingly embarrassing to tell, especially to Miroku, though she was sure he'd end up with his own versions of the same things.

This, though, was different. To begin with, Chinsei was also from the other time, another like them, and that meant he would, eventually, begin to have flashbacks of his own. Whatever she was remembering, whatever it was that caused the phantom pain in her back, it was not Kohaku's fault. That thread she saw had something to do with it, that gross man had something to do with it, but it was not Kohaku. It was not. He couldn't do something like that. She wouldn't believe it.

"Lost in your own little world, aren't you?" a deep voice rumbled from down the hall, and Sango had to wait for her light adapted eyes to see the shape of her father to solidify in the shadows. "You're up late, kiddo. Can't sleep?"

Sango slipped outside, closing Chinsei's door silently behind her, knowing that too much talking could wake him. "You're up late too. You should be in bed."

Her father shrugged, hefting the newspaper and glancing at the closed door, evading the comment. "He's up late again?"

She pursed her lips, then folded her arms, looking up at the floor. Dad'd worked a double shift again, and judging by what he was holding, was trying to catch up on the news. "Studying. Fell asleep at the desk."

"Are you all right? You look a little pale." He stepped forward, brushing some of her hair out of her face to check her forehead, a look of worry in his brown eyes. "You're not getting sick are you?"

Sango managed to smile weakly, prying his hand off her head. "No, not sick...just some bad dreams."

"Bad dreams, huh?" An eyebrow was arched, and he puffed up his chest heroically, the way he did when she was a little girl. "Don't need your old man to beat up any monsters under your bed, then?"

That received a heavy, tired chuckle. "No, Dad, I think I'm qualified to beat up monsters on my own now. I use a big boomerang." When she noticed his puzzled expression, she waved her hands frantically, hoping he wouldn't ask her anything. "I'm going to get some water or milk or something. It's really late, and there's school tomorrow. And you have work. So..." she edged to the side, aware he was looking at her strangely. "I'm okay, Dad, just a little weirded out. I'll be okay, really."

He cocked his head to the side quizzically, but accepted that she didn't want to talk. "Oyasumi, then, Senrei," he told her, heading towards his room.

"Oyasumi," she called quietly after him, quickly heading towards the kitchen and some privacy. She flipped on the light over the sink and closed her eyes, dark hair streaming down her shoulders as she looked into the drain.

Sango didn't honestly wish that she wouldn't remember the life she had in the sengoku jidai. She'd been warned about the trials they'd all been put through, at the will of a youkai named Naraku. The simple thought of the name made her shudder, and her mouth ran dry. She reached for one of the cabinets and pulled out a glass, then pulled some ice out of the freezer and filled it almost to the brim with cold, clear water. It was refreshing, wettening her cottony mouth. It tasted like sleep, thick and a little sour.

Kohaku was her brother. Her only little brother. Something bad had happened to him. No, something bad had been done _to_ him. Where was she when it happened? The view in her thoughts swung around sporadically, frantically, and she wondered if she was there when it happened, why she hadn't been able to stop it. Why their father hadn't been able to stop it. What was the purpose of Kohaku's...what, his going insane? His...manipulation? Being controlled? Possession? The images her memory produced showed only what happened, and were seemingly reluctant to explain the situation to her further.

Setting the glass down on the counter, she looked at the phone, the red button saying it was charging glowing brightly. Slowly, she picked it off its hook, hearing the dial tone come dully through the receiver. What had happened? Why had it happened? Could she have stopped it?

She punched in a number, slowly, not sure if this was really wise. It was late...he might still be up, but it was still really late.

A moment later, there was a clattering noise on the other end of the phone, then a groggy, "Ah..moshi moshi?" interrupted by a yawn. A pause, then, again, more curious, "Moshi moshi?"

"Miroku?"

There were several more noises, a metallic bang, the sound of papers being tossed around and a thud. Then a much more alert, "What? Sango? What's wrong? What happened?"

She couldn't resist a smile. "Did you just fall off your chair?"

Even without seeing him, she knew he was blinking stupidly at the phone. "Huh? What?"

Sango rubbed a hand against her forehead, sinking down to the floor and tucking her knees up under her. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to wake you up."

"It's okay," he consoled, now sounding a bit confused. Sango lived at home, got up early; she should be sound asleep. "What's wrong?"

"I remembered...some things. I don't really understand them all..." she closed her eyes, laying her head against her knees. This was stupid, worrying him in the middle of the night for no reason. She could tell him just fine tomorrow evening. Though it did make her feel better, knowing that, even if he was across town, he was still there with her on the phone.

He hesitated a moment, not sure if she was planning on continuing. When the silence stretched, he asked, seriously, "Do you want me to come over?"

At that, her head snapped up and she shook it quickly. "No, no, everyone's sleeping...you'll just wake them up and worry them. I'm sorry, it just..."

"Bad?"

"Yeah. Bad."

Then, lightly, "I take it had nothing to do with me groping you, then?"

She snorted with laughter. Yeah, he wouldn't consider that 'bad' would he? "Baka. And don't let Dad or..." she trailed, almost saying, '...don't let Dad or Chinsei hear you mention that...'

He caught her pause. "It's about Chinsei, isn't it? Or something like that."

"Something," she sighed, turning her head to the side and seeing Mica padding around on the clean linoleum floor, cat eyes reflective in the dark. The elderly feline edged closer, purring, batting her head against Sango's hip until she was petted as requested. Happy with the attention, she sat down and curled up against Sango's human shaped warmth. "He's like us. I'm sure."

"That...would explain a few things, I guess."

"Like?"

"Thinking I'd met him before when I saw him in class. Which I knew was impossible. It was different meeting you though."

She smiled on her end of the conversation. Damn straight it was different. She ran a hand over Mica's silky fur, and felt the vibration of her contented purring beneath it. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

"No, I fell asleep...doing research...guess I'm out of coffee," he sighed, sounding depressed over the sudden realization of his caffeine depravation. "You sure you don't want me to come over?"

She picked at her messy pajamas and decided that wasn't exactly how she wanted Miroku to see her dressed. Particularly knowing Miroku's habits. It was hardly some frilly, sexy nightie, but, well, old habits die hard. Very, very hard. She wondered how well she'd be able to use hiraikotsu these days. "No...but, Miroku?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

He was smiling on the other end. "You're welcome. Until tomorrow evening, then, Sango."

She was smiling too. "Oyasumi."

* * *

Kohaku. Part of the difficulty in writing this fic is that the series is not over as of the time of writing this, and I honestly don't know if Kohaku gets to live after the shikon shard is pulled out of his back. Of course, this is me, and I'm rooting for him to live happily for a long time...it's very tempting to leave him without any memories at all in the fic. Poor Kohaku. Still, I'm pulling for Super-Rin to ask Sesshoumaru to use Tenseiga on him and fix him right up. ^_^ Physically, anyway.  
And Kanna is walking along with Shoukon. Think what you will.  
Til next time.  
~Queen


	8. What Sango Saw

_Good Karma_

_

* * *

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Chapter 7- _What Sango Saw (or, Things That Hurt Shippou's Head)_

It was a beautiful day, and it did do much to cheer Sango's mood. Sleep had come only restlessly to her after her call to Miroku the night before, and after a long, grueling day of school, she was listlessly heading for _The Fox Hole_, feeling fairly sure Miroku would be there as well as Shippou. Over the last couple days, they'd ended up going to the antique shop out of the feeling of solidarity it lent to them. Three out of the five were together again, and it felt good. Besides, Shippou was the only one capable of explaining any of the impossible-appearing memories that kept floating to the surfaces of Sango and Miroku's minds. Though he usually was willing to give all the details, there would be occasional times he'd frown a little and tell them to wait a bit before he told them anything; Sango assumed it was for the best. There were too many times the bits and snatches of memory only confused her, and if she had been given more to think about, her head might start to spin.

This, though, she doubted was one of those times. Even if the kitsune decided she should try to recall more before getting some details, she'd force it out of him. If Chinsei was, as she was fairly sure, Kohaku, then she was damned certain she deserved to know why he'd done what he had. Chinsei was Kohaku...he would begin to remember on his own, eventually, and she wanted to be as ready for it as she could be. He may be older than her in this lifetime, but in that one, she was the big sister, and that meant she should be able to act like it.

As always, there were plenty of students streaming around her on the school's campus. A little sea of green and white and black, swirling forward and talking as bells chimed from the clock, signaling the end of the day. Instead of turning towards home, she followed a knot of boys the opposite direction, heading towards the middle school a couple blocks away.

She held a hand up to her eyes to block a little of the sunlight. There was a cool breeze, keeping the heat away, and the temperature just right. She shifted the duffel bag on her shoulder, feeling the weight of her books and gear inside of it. There was no track practice today, and she was glad; more time to spend with the others at the store. It would be a bit of a walk, but she hadn't told Miroku last night she needed or wanted a ride. No real reason to expect him to turn up, though it did reinforce her feeling he'd be waiting for her with Shippou. He didn't know if she had practice or not. Though usually the activity cleared her mind, it would be a distraction today. She wanted to get to the bottom of this new situation. She lengthened her stride. It was, at least, a good day for a stroll.

As she walked along, she heard footsteps coming up fast behind her, and automatically edged to the side to let whoever it was through. Sango wasn't sure why she felt surprised when she saw who it was plowing through, gripping her books to her chest and furiously walking forward at a breakneck pace, an angry looking boy hot on her heels, his voice held just below the level of shouting.

That Mai girl had to absolutely attract guys who were always bothering her, Sango sighed to herself, wondering if she should try intercepting them before they got too far ahead. She sped up her walk to a quick trot, trying to catch up and weaving around the various other students. Just ahead, the middle school loomed, and the younger students were still milling out onto the sidewalk, crossing the street and heading to their own routes home. Sango was almost to the two of them, having been forced to stop for traffic at one of the crosswalks. Mai had turned to face the taller boy, and had a strange expression on her face, one Sango couldn't quite read. It wasn't the same look she'd had when arguing with that other guy, Shoukon, the previous day. It lacked the pure, loathing hatred. There was a weariness on her face now, as though she was very tired, and her pursuer was intent on talking. It was with that expression she sighed and managed, just within Sango's hearing, to say, "So what?"

The response was for the boy's voice to finally break into shouting. Sango wished she could see his face, but his back was turned to her, providing her with only Mai's. "What do you mean, 'so what'? I deserve to know! Who is he? Some asshole bothering you?"

Sango nodded, feeling a little relieved. She kept herself back a bit from the two of them, like most of the other people had been. The crosswalk finally lit, and though Mai and her boyfriend ignored it, the rest of the pedestrians were only too happy to get away from the spat. She felt a little guilty at her curiosity over their argument, but she couldn't quite resist a little eavesdropping. She'd helped Mai out the previous day; she wanted to know how things were turning out with that Shoukon guy who was harassing her. That seemed to be the source of their argument. Without any real reason to approach Mai and see if she was okay, this would be enough. Sango bent to the ground and began fiddling with her duffel bag to stall as a gaggle of middle school girls passed her to stand on the corner and wait for the next Walk signal.

Mai seemed to be trying her best to keep her own temper in check, lips pressed thin until she shook herself, looking away and snapping, "Why? Do you want to go and beat him up for me, Kotaishi?"

From where she knelt on the ground, Sango could hear him begin to choke a little, sounding flustered for some reason. Tilting her head to the side, Sango finally managed to see his profile a little while he seemed to regroup. She frowned slightly, then looked a Mai, and back again before Kotaishi pulled himself together. Something felt a little off about this argument, but she couldn't figure out what it was, exactly. This sounded very much like an average lover's quarrel; yet there was a strange element inside of it that was elusive. Sango's brows drew down sharply. Who were these two, and why did she have the oddest feeling she'd seen them fighting before? She bit her lip.

"Well...maybe!" Kotaishi finally stuttered, looking defiant with his hands in fists at his sides. He thrust up his chin. "What if I did?"

Mai's expression, at that announcement, unnerved Sango. The annoyed look evaporated, and instead was replaced with a critical look that searched his face, hard. After a long moment, she looked mournfully away, and said something so quietly that it took several seconds for Sango to piece it all together.

_'You're not strong enough?'_ What was that supposed to mean?

Kotaishi, though, merely took this as an insult, face reddening while he groped for a retort.

Then Sango heard something that made her forget about the argument.

The trio of girls standing awkwardly off to the side of the two were waving back the way they came, urging someone to hurry. One raised her voice and waved more vigorously. "Kagome-chan! We're over here!"

Sango stood up sharply, head swinging around just in time to watch a middle school girl come huffing up the sidewalk, dark hair falling around her shoulders as she slowed her run to a walk for the last few steps, an apologetic smile gracing her lips. "Yuka, Eri, Ayumi-chan, sorry I'm late!"

"It's okay, we were just going to get some burgers..." one of them consoled, leading into a round of everyday chatter as the light switched again, and they took off across the walk.

Suddenly aware she was staring, Sango dropped back to her duffel bag and tried, desperately, not to stare at the girl who would, within a few weeks, meet her past self and become her best friend. The memory of Kagome's face suddenly locked solidly into her mind, filling in the still slightly blurred images that filled the space in her memory. Kagome-chan. That was Kagome-chan!

Her head lifted, and she couldn't resist a smile. She had looked so young! Three, maybe four, years younger, than she was! It hadn't seemed like so much before...maybe it wasn't. She'd been younger then, in the sengoku jidai, when they'd met. Kagome would still have the Shikon no Tama inside her at this point. This was her in the modern era. Though of course, now, as Senrei, Sango knew exactly what life was like here, and why Kagome was always so worried about...tests. That was right, she was always worried about tests. Inuyasha never understood it, and she and Miroku and Shippou had just accepted these 'test' things as some mysterious thing she had to do. High school entrance exams were going to be coming up for her that year, no wonder she was so worried all the time!

Sango laughed, trying to keep her voice down and getting strange stares from anyone around her. Now, in retrospect, it was actually pretty funny. She shook her head and watched Kagome following her friends across the street, still chattering, oblivious to the reactions of the others standing on the corner. Would she ever have something to tell Miroku and Shippou today! It was probably best she wasn't seen, anyway...from the way Shippou talked, she and Miroku looked almost exactly like their historical counterparts. She didn't know how much Kagome would take in of some people just standing around her on the sidewalk, but it was better not to take any chances of recognition later. At this point, though, Kagome hadn't met any of them yet in the past.

Finally shaking herself and looking around as Kagome reached the other corner, she felt a little cold suddenly, as she saw the expressions now on Mai's and Kotaishi's faces. Neither of them had moved since Kagome had run past, and a tiny feeling of dread rose in her heart. Mai had gone stark white, eyes round and disbelieving, mouth hanging open slightly. Kotaishi looked as though someone had just sucker-punched him, and his look of shock didn't change while he swiveled around, following the path Kagome had just taken. He took a halting step forward, then stopped, frozen, blinking.

His movement seemed to be enough to snap Mai out of her own daze, and she looked at him for a moment, then after Kagome, who was slowly beginning to fade into the other people walking along the street. Sango's fingers curled around the strap to her duffel bag. She knew them. She wasn't sure who they were, but she definitely knew them. From before. Those reactions were not unlike her own surprise. Different, but clearly recognition. Disbelief, but recognition. They knew Kagome. Or had known her.

Mai's face was twisting into a scowl that frightened Sango a little. The look was not directed after Kagome, but at Kotaishi, a look of anger different from the anger she displayed during their argument. It was a jealous anger, and Sango had seen it as a prelude to petty fights among her teammates over some boy. The fact that Kotaishi seemed completely oblivious to her now was not making the situation any easier. He was going to be in deep trouble when he snapped out of it. Then, abruptly, Mai's expression broke into only frustrated bitterness, and she turned and ran back down the street, ignoring Sango, still kneeling on the ground and hoping to look small.

Slowly, Sango stood, a little disbelieving of what had just passed right before her. It was so many little things all rolled into several big things. Seeing Kagome-chan. Finding out that Mai and this Kotaishi person she knew were also from the past. The way they reacted, especially. Mai was gone now, having ducked around some corner, and Kotaishi was still staring silently at the other streetcorner, his head slowly starting to shake back and forth, almost as though he were trying to deny what he had just seen. Sango placed her duffel bag back on her shoulder and zipped up the front. She rubbed her forehead momentarily and ran a hand through her hair, stopping when her fingers ran into the base of her ponytail, trying to decide what to do. She couldn't let this Kotaishi guy, whoever he had been, go chasing after Kagome for the same reason she couldn't go running over to talk. Accidental paradoxes were not what they needed to create here.

A small cough broke Kotaishi out of his trance, and he finally managed to turn to see Sango standing there, casually adjusting her bag. She looked up at him, and quickly committed his face to memory. If she got a clear memory of him later, she could try to compare. Black hair, blue eyes, tall, lean. "You okay? You look like you saw a ghost."

She watched him look at her, puzzled momentarily, and she wondered if he was getting the odd deja vu feeling from her that she had gotten earlier from him and Mai. Even if he did, it was probably eclipsed by the shock of seeing Kagome, and he looked back across the street again. He blinked, then exclaimed, coming to himself and turning around, "Mai?"

"If you're talking about your girlfriend, she ran back that way," Sango gestured, pointing behind them. He looked panicked, looking back, then across the street and back again, indecisively. She knew he must be confused; did he even realize Mai was from before as well? Certainly he knew there was something about Kagome. But then, Kagome Now was Kagome Then, the same person and not another incarnation, who both looked and sounded exactly the same.

He made a frustrated sound, looked reluctantly at the opposite corner, then swore and took off at a dead run back the way he came, looking frantically around. Sango sighed as he rushed past where Mai had turned. Even if she called out to him, he probably wouldn't listen to her. There had been too much weirdness within too little space of time for any of them to sort out right away, and he wasn't likely to listen to a random girl on the street. What a day. At least Shippou might be able to tell her who they could have been, and that would be a help. They went to her school; she could find them again if she needed to.

Shaking her head, she looked up and across the street, not to the crosswalk, but to the other part of the crux in the roads. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she quickly looked away. That creepy Shoukon guy had witnessed the whole thing, leaning up against one of the other buildings, hands in his pockets and looking far too relaxed. From the corner of her eye, she saw him straighten, cast a final look after Kotaishi, then turn and stroll up the street.

The light changed, and Walk became lit on the crosswalk sign.

There was something she didn't like about him.

* * *

The now familiar sound of bells clanged against the inside of the antique shop door, and Sango slipped inside quickly. The curtains were still up facing the outside, allowing her to look in, and she was able to see Miroku and Shippou as easily as they might have seen her, had they not been talking as she passed by. Their discussion ceased, first in curiosity as to who might have entered, and then as they smiled greeting, Miroku stepping forward from where he'd been leaning against the counter.

"You didn't tell me you needed a ride, I could have picked you up," he said, holding out a hand to take her duffel bag. She shook her head and set it beside him instead, trying to think of the best way of explaining, not only her new knowledge of Kohaku and Chinsei, but of seeing Kagome and the two not-strangers on the corner.

"And if you did, I would have missed what I saw awhile ago," she sighed, then paused, looking at Shippou with her brows drawn into a puzzled pucker. It finally dawned on her what was wrong with the view. He was perched on one of his glass cases, looking like a perfectly human version of himself, though in jeans and a rumpled white shirt instead of what she considered his 'usual' untransformed hakama ensemble. "Shouldn't you be an old man?"

His face split into a fang free grin, and he swung his legs a bit back and forth. "I decided I was getting tired of being Minamino-_oji_san. I'll look like this for a few days, announce that I'm taking the shop over from me, and then in a few weeks put an ad in the obituaries for myself."

Miroku glanced over at Sango's slightly stunned expression. "He makes it sound so normal."

Sango nodded, and Shippou waved it off, shrugging, then looking more interested. "I'm used to it. And what did you see awhile ago?" He leaned forward inquisitively, tilting his head to the side. Sango glanced at the open window, and sighed. It wasn't like a bunch of people were waiting outside to burst in on their conversation or anything. She folded her arms, leaned against the counter, took a breath, and began.

"I saw Kagome-chan today."

On the top of the display case, Shippou stopped swinging his legs and fidgeting, and Miroku's eyes widened marginally. "I see. How is Kagome-sama?"

"Seemed okay..." she noticed Shippou's worried expression. "Don't look like that, she was pretty oblivious." Sango told him as encouragingly as she could. "It was after school, with her friends. I know not to talk to her yet, Shippou, so stop worrying."

"I know, I know," he grumbled, folding his arms, and gave them each a warning look. "But still. Be careful. We don't want to mess up the past somehow."

After receiving reluctant nods of agreement, he relaxed, and Sango added, "There's more, though. Seeing her was just the tip of the iceberg, I think."

Miroku shifted across the narrow aisle, to get a better view of Sango while she told her story, and to see Shippou's various reactions, whatever they might be. He assumed part of rest would eventually bring up her brother, though judging by the puzzlement on her face, there was something else now, something new. Not necessarily alarming, but something worthy of being mentioned. A moment later, he was proven right.

"I think...I think I found two more of us. Well, not _us,_" she emphasized, waving a hand in a circle and meaning their actual group, "But more like us. It was actually because of them I stopped and saw Kagome-chan go by." She hesitated, wondering if either of them would question her yet, and when they only waited for her to continue, she did. "I bumped into a girl named Mai yesterday in the hallway after school. She was arguing with some guy. Seemed like a real jerk, so Okyo, Furin and I interrupted them. I didn't think much of it then, but she was arguing with another guy today..."

"Sounds like she attracts weird guys..." Shippou grinned sagely, and Sango smiled faintly.

"I was thinking the same thing earlier, actually." She shook her head. "But this other guy, Kotaishi...it wasn't the same kind of fight. I guess he found out about the other guy from yesterday, and got pretty upset about it."

"Boyfriend?" Miroku asked.

"Seemed that way. A little strange about it, but yeah." Sango shifted on her feet, folding her arms and looking at the hardwood floor for a moment before starting in again. "Both of them go to my school, but neither is in my grade. I don't know if they're tenth years or eleventh, but there was something really odd about them fighting." She brushed her bangs out of her eyes. "I guess I had some deja vu with Mai, and it just got stronger with both of them there. Enough to bring it up, at least."

The two humans looked at Shippou, who had an odd frown on his face, his nose wrinkled up in thought. "Mai and Kotaishi?" he asked after a moment, still looking a little perplexed. "You're sure about their names?"

"Yes. I talked to Mai for a minute, and I'm pretty sure she called him Kotaishi once. By then I was listening for names, since it seemed so strange. Do you know them?"

Shippou still looked troubled. "I don't know. I can think of a couple of people who would argue a lot, but..." he looked increasingly confused. "What'd they look like?"

That, Sango had been ready for. Shippou had told them before how much they resembled their past selves; most of the differences lay in the way they chose to dress and fashion themselves, things anyone would do to fit their time and be stylish. But their faces were the same, and that was why Shippou had recognized them so easily that first day. "Kotaishi was tall," she held her hand up, just slightly higher than Miroku, who lifted his eyebrows as his gaze tracked her hand. "Black hair, blue eyes." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "He's built like most of the guys on the track team, now that I think about it. I don't know what else to describe..."

"You seemed to have gotten a good look," Miroku commented, a little too lightly, trying to keep his lips from twitching into a frown.

She blinked once, pinkness rising in her face, then forced herself not to get embarrassed. Instead, she chuckled, playfully countering, "It's not like I offered to bear his child or anything."

He stared at her for a moment, then saw the laughter in her eyes, and relaxed slowly, a grin starting to form.

"Excuse me," Shippou interrupted, waving a hand outward, though he couldn't really reach between them. "If you want to go flirt, get a room. But not here," he shot a sharp look at Miroku, who returned it with his most innocent expression. "Anyway, Sango, were they there when you saw Kagome?"

"Yes. She just ran past, but if I wasn't sure before, I was then," she told them. "They both recognized her, somehow. Kotaishi just kept standing there and staring. I was afraid he was going to try running after her before long. Mai didn't seem to like..." she stopped in the middle of her sentence, because Shippou had suddenly dropped his face into one of his hands, and his shoulders were visibly shaking with silent laughter. He looked up a moment later, and tried to control the fit of giggles.

"You can stop, I think I got that one," he laughed. "What'd the Mai girl do?"

Sango backed up a little in her story. "I'm not sure how to describe it. She went really pale, basically. Then she got angry, but I don't think it was at Kagome-chan. She ran off back towards school."

During this, Shippou had gotten control of himself and was looking more serious again, the confused look starting to return as possibilities began to whirl through his head. That really didn't tell him much. He'd had a vague idea about the Kotaishi one after Sango's description, but if he was stupefied over Kagome's appearance, he'd lay bets it was Kouga. Still, he couldn't be completely sure until he met this Kotaishi guy. Mai's reaction, though, could have been any number of people's. It didn't even necessarily have to have been a woman in the past, either, though so far everyone was gender-correct. It'd be a little disturbing to have, oh, a girly Hiten or Manten running around somewhere. Shippou might even leave them alone if that was the case, as long as he had a really, really good, long, _hard_ laugh at their expense once they remembered who they had been. Despite that most amusing possibility, he rather doubted Mai was secretly one of the Thunder Brothers.

"What's so funny?" Miroku asked, and he realized he'd been spaced out somewhere. The two humans were staring at him, waiting for some comment. It still never really ceased to amaze him that they kept looking to him for information and guidance, instead of the other way around. Part of him liked it, and liked it a lot. Another part found it oddly disturbing, and increasingly worrisome. He was still fairly young for a kitsune, even if to the humans he was impossibly old. The thought of actually trying to lead the group seemed too bizarre. He'd expected to help jog their memories, and eventually everything would be a modern version of what it was before. So far, it wasn't. Not much was turning out as he'd imagined at all.

"Nothing, nothing," he avoided. "A lot of people can just go pale. What'd she look like?"

Sango lifted her hand about to her eye level. "A little shorter than me. Thin. Short hair, black. She kept it held back in an odd headband. It had a white feather tied into it. I remember because it was strange...Shippou?"

Though they'd been standing fairly casually before, they straightened up quickly when they saw Shippou suddenly stiffen, and the amused air from before evaporated. He looked worried. "A feather? A _white_ feather? In her hair? You're sure?"

Confused, Sango nodded, searching his face. "Why? What's wrong?"

It was possible, but impossible. She was there too? Kouga being around was one thing, and not really unwelcome, but _Kagura?_ The only one he knew who would wear a feather in her hair was Kagura. Though if their friends ended up in this era, it was perfectly possible for their enemies as well. It was Kagura. It had to be. But if Kagura was here, who else? Tsubaki? Urasue? Kanna? The Thunder Brothers? If one, hell, if _any_ of the Shichinin-tai were around, all hell was going to break loose. It was an old worry, and until now, he'd kept himself concerned with finding friends. He didn't want to think about what would happen if any old enemies started coming around. If Naraku somehow, impossibly, came around.

Who else would possibly wear a feather in her hair? He rubbed his face with his hands. Then he hesitated, looking through his fingers and seeing Sango, still looking worriedly at him. "Wait, you said they were dating?"

Not seeing what that had to do with anything, she nodded the affirmative, and Shippou doubled over moaning as if in pain. "Oh, that hurts my head. That hurts my head a lot...gyah, my poor brain cells."

"Shippou, would you care to explain what is hurting your head so much?" Miroku demanded, starting to sound a little irritated. "We're still in the dark about the Kotaishi guy. Who are these people?"

Groaning again, Shippou rubbed his temples. Obviously neither Kouga or Kagura had figured out who they were yet. Oh, would the shit hit the fan if that happened. He winced at the near pun. Hopefully Kagura wouldn't be so into beating up Kouga in this time...it hurt his head muchly. What a mess. Maybe Sango was wrong. Really, really wrong. Big, big mess. Kouga would blow. Hopefully five hundred years would be enough for him to pass on the whole revenge thing. Killing people had very different results in this era, and he didn't want to have a guy trying to murder for things that happened five hundred years ago right now. Especially if Kagura-Mai had family. Her, with a family. Wow, that was weird to think of. Not as weird as the idea of Kouga taking Kagura out on a date somewhere and...gah, bad, bad mental images! Too weird! Must stop! Stop! He smacked himself in the forehead.

"Kotaishi is Kouga," he said, voice reedy, still trying to recover from the concept of Kouga and Kagura together. "That's not bad news. Getting in contact with him...ugh, yeah, we'll have to get in contact with him..."

Sighing, Miroku frowned. Shippou still looked like he was reeling from something only he was getting, and it was becoming annoying, since the kitsune was the only one capable of explaining what was so painfully strange. "You mentioned Kouga before. He was...a wolf youkai."

"Yeah," Shippou sighed, rubbing his eyes and pulling himself together. "You just have no idea of how weird the thing Sango just told me is. Kotaishi is Kouga, I'm sure. And there's only one person I can think of who'd be wearing a white feather in her hair. Does the name 'Kagura' sound familiar to either of you?"

His response was further staring. Then, hesitantly, Sango said, "Kohaku was on a large feather before. There was someone with him."

"That would be Kagura..." Shippou acknowledged tiredly, then his head snapped up with alarm. "And when did you start remembering Kohaku?"

"Last night. That was the other thing I needed to talk to you about."

Shippou ran a hand through his hair. Too much all at once. It was a good thing it was an even slower day than usual at the store. Customers interrupting this would have been even more overwhelming. "Okay. One thing at a time. This first. Kagura was one of Naraku's detachments."

"Detachments?" they echoed, looking confused.

"Naraku took other youkai into himself, and while we were looking for the Shikon no Tama, he eventually figured out how to make new youkai as detachments of himself."

"So...Kagura...was a part of Naraku?" Miroku ventured. "But then, wouldn't she be Naraku, if she was just a part of him?"

"Kagura and the other detachments we met seemed to be completely independent of Naraku. They worked for him and followed him." Shippou sighed, looking more and more worried by the minute. If Kagura was back, then who else? If Naraku had somehow returned, would he try anything? What could he do? His hands turned into tight fists. He'd thought too much of the best about all this. He'd have to start watching Kagome, and often. He was the only one who could. Minamino-ojisan wasn't going to be retiring for awhile, then, it seemed. Even undisguised, Kagome was unlikely to recognize the grown-up Shippou, but still...better to be as well hidden as possible. He'd have to start taking more precautions. "Kagura was usually around the most. We met her..." he sighed, might as well get this over with, "at a trap. She used wind as a weapon...but she could make corpses move." Eyes firmly grounded on the floor, he refused to look at Sango and Miroku's reactions. They may not remember yet, but he did. It was hideous. It reeked of blood. He'd never smelled that much blood in one place before.

"It was all a trap, with shikon no kakera as the bait. We fought out of it, and Inuyasha defeated her, but it was a nasty, nasty fight. She killed...a lot...of youkai. Wolf youkai. Kouga...was not happy." He could hear Sango suck in her breath as some realizations about what she saw settled into place. Miroku remained silent. "So you can see why," he managed a smile, "I would find the two of them attempting to date, extraordinarily strange. They probably haven't recognized each other yet. When they do..."

"Then we should get in contact with Kouga, at least," Miroku decided, frowning. Though most of these memories had not yet returned, he understood how bad this could become. Kagura was one of their enemies, and if she was back, then others could be as well. He'd been too wrapped up in his own thoughts to think beyond Sango, Shippou, Kagome-sama and Inuyasha. If they were back, then it was only logical others could be as well. "Kagura...if she's human, she can't fight with the wind."

"We can assume that, but," Shippou warned, "Sango, you never had any magical powers, but Miroku...yours were human powers coming from your houkiri. As Haiboku, you've never been trained. For all we know, you still have your houkiri and are just as powerful as you were then, but don't know how to use them or tap into them. It's unlikely she'll be wielding her fan around, but...right now, let's not rule out anything."

"Does she have any weaknesses?" Sango asked, thinking perhaps if she'd been defeated before, she could be defeated again. Then she shook herself mentally. Something seemed a little wrong about this. Kagura was still Mai. Even if they weren't ruling out her presumed ability with the wind, she was still a high school girl. They were all sounding like she was going to attack them right away. What she'd seen of Mai, and not remembered of Kagura, did not resemble a heartless monster. She was picked on by a bully, jealous over Kotaishi...Kouga...staring after Kagome...those were such normal reactions for a person. Could she change that much between Mai and Kagura? She, as Sango, and Senrei, felt exactly the same. Her memories simply extended further. How different were the thoughts of an enemy?

But Shippou was talking. "Inuyasha was able to fight her effectively, but the rest of us..." he looked increasingly worried by the moment, "didn't have much luck. She's strong. At least, she was."

Miroku had been listening while Sango's thoughts drifted, and he was trying to find some plan in the mess. "Then do we even try to talk to her?"

"Yes," Sango decided, before Shippou could even respond. "If she doesn't know who she is, maybe we can get to her first. I know it sounds bad, but she's probably as confused as we are. If not, she will be soon, and she's probably all on her own with this. Do you think she'd go to Kouga if she knew he'd eventually have to find out what happened before?" She sucked in her breath, then followed through. "If we are assuming a worst-case scenario right now, then if she can contact Naraku, she might try it, assuming he exists."

"If she hasn't already..." Miroku shook his head, not liking this at all. "Sango, it's too dangerous, we don't know enough."

"And if she hasn't contacted him? Even if she has, we'll at least know how much she knows then. We can stand here and speculate for forever, but unless we get some real information, I don't see how we have much choice."

"Sango..." Miroku tried to continue to argue, and she looked down at the ground, speaking tightly.

"I don't want to think that just because someone used to work for Naraku it's all their fault. That's what happened to Kohaku, isn't it, Shippou?" She cut her eyes sharply at the kitsune, hoping desperately that one or both of them would understand. "I don't know exactly what it was, but it wasn't all his fault. I don't want to believe everything is exactly the same as it was back then!"

The two men stared at her for a moment, silently. Miroku glanced towards Shippou, who shrugged and sighed, looking unhappy. It wasn't just Kagura that Sango was worrying about; it was Kohaku. She worried that he would follow the same fate as he had in that other time, and Sango was associating Kagura's situation to that of her brother's. Neither could blame her for being concerned about Kohaku, and neither had the heart to insist that Kagura would be as much an enemy in this time as she had been then. By stating it, it would be the same as dooming Kohaku to the same fate. The truth was, they simply didn't know how to react.

"We may be worrying over nothing," Miroku said quietly, trying to peer around and look into Sango's face. She reluctantly met his gaze as he coaxed, "I think we're all jumping to conclusions. Besides, someone as evil as Naraku should have been reincarnated as a cockroach." He smiled at Sango, lifting his eyebrows comically. "Then the worst he could do is walk on our food."

The lame joke earned a weak smile, and Shippou coughed rather loudly to catch their attention, his head cocked to the side, expectantly waiting for them to finish. When it seemed they were listening, he leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. "I guess that's decided then...Sango, you go to school with them."

"Should I bring them here?"

Shippou considered that. He was reluctant to take the chance of revealing where he worked, but the idea of meeting somewhere more public didn't seem like a great idea either. This store was safe, and if anything went wrong, this was where he was in the best place to fight, despite the close quarters. He had control here. "Yeah. Bring them here. Tomorrow, after school, if that's enough time for you." Sango clasped her hands together and nodded.

"And you've remembered Kohaku."

"He's my brother."

Shippou slipped off the display case he'd been sitting on and folded his arms. He'd been waiting for this, sooner or later, and felt as ready as he could be to explain it to her. As much as he could, at least. "Yes, he was your brother...Naraku-"

Sango began shaking her head sharply, and Miroku cut in for her, placing an arm around her shoulders as he explained, "No, Shippou, Kohaku is her brother. Senrei's brother Chinsei, not just Sango's. Her older brother, but still her brother. So far he hasn't remembered anything yet. The way it sounds..." he trailed, looking at Sango's pale face, which flinched as he finished, "that may not be a completely bad thing."

Scratching his head, Shippou wished he knew what to do. That complicated things, again. This was getting more and more messy with the moment. Sango always wanted her brother back. She'd doubted, at times, that the last of her family would return to her, but she persevered, in the end. Though he disliked the way she was looking for the best with Kagura, he understood why she would want to hope the past wasn't going to repeat itself. If Miroku was right and Naraku was, hopefully, as he mentioned earlier, a cockroach at the moment, then there probably wasn't anything at all to worry about. If they were unlucky enough to have a real enemy to deal with...Kohaku may or may not become involved. He would have a lot of bad memories. More than most of them.

"Do you want to tell him, Sango?" She looked up, Shippou completely serious. "He'll probably begin to remember on his own, sometime, but flat out telling him might be jarring to his memories. He could deny it."

She laughed once, sadly. "You just mean he won't believe me."

Shippou looked away. "He'll have to, eventually."

Sango closed her eyes and felt Miroku squeeze her shoulder, lightly. Not everything about Kohaku's life had to have been bad. She kept focusing on the negative, of his time forced to work with Naraku. What had life been like before? Had he been saved? Did he live longer? Happier? Was he safe? She didn't have the answers to those questions, not yet. She opened her eyes and focused on the only one in the room who knew whether or not her brother had lived or died. "It wasn't his fault, was it, Shippou? Just tell me that much, for now. He wasn't doing anything wrong willingly, was he? He was being forced, right?"

She hoped she didn't sound like she was begging for some good news, but she knew her voice sounded too pained. But she was glad, and found some relief, in the instantaneous, serious, and honest way Shippou simply told her, "Yes, Sango, he was being controlled. It wasn't his fault."

Raising her hands to her eyes, she rubbed them with her fingers, finding them dry. Folding her hands together, she took a deep breath and with a swelling feeling of relief, decided to believe him. "Okay."

"Maybe I should take you home," Miroku asked her quietly, sensing how tired she was from the last hour or so of talking. Her eyes were lowered, heavy, and her shoulders sagged under his arm. He had no memories of Kohaku, not yet, but he could see how badly Sango was worrying about him now. Everything would be all right. It would have to be. Everything had gone so well up until this; but he should have known better than to expect only the good memories to come back to him. Life was suffering. He didn't know what to do for her, to remove or alleviate the painful memories of what happened to her family. That was right...there had been more than just Kohaku...something more. For now, though, it felt like there was nothing he could do. He didn't want to ask more and make the weight on her mind feel any heavier. He could inquire about Kohaku tomorrow, while she was at school, and hear the full story. Or at least, as much of it as Shippou was willing to tell.

A soft sigh and Sango's movement towards her set aside duffel bag told him that she agreed; she wanted to leave. Miroku cast a glance at Shippou, who could only stand there and watch, knowing what happened and momentarily not telling any more of it. "We'll see you tomorrow, then, Shippou."

"Oyasumi nasai."

The bells rang against the door again as they left.

Their footsteps fell quietly against the pavement as Miroku pulled the stained glass door to a close behind them. He looked at Sango for a moment, who had folded her arms together, fingers of her left hand twining around the strap of her duffel bag, which she kept close as though for comfort at contact; any contact. The worried look remained heavily in her nut brown eyes, downcast towards the ground and pensive. It made him feel strangely helpless, lacking any way of cheering her up. The old memory of distracting her by rubbing an inappropriate place bubbled up in his mind, forcing him to look up at the clear night sky in effort to ignore the previous life's bad habit. This was not a good time. It never really had been a good time, but he'd learned one thing- if he wanted to have Sango's favor, a hands off approach would reap better results than something more...invasive. Highly tempting that it was.

"My car is just down the block...there weren't many parking spaces when I got here," he told her, hoping to get both their minds off their respective trains of thought. She nodded silently, and began walking, steadily and silently beside him.

They strolled past the little cafe that was by the shop, the sound of the blues flowing through the air over their outdoor speakers, mixing well with the little, many colored paper lanterns of blue and red and yellow that hung so decoratively around their picketed section of the sidewalk. The pleasant chatter of several tables drifted into the sounds of the tune, contrasting the low voice of the singer with light laughter. Bread and garlic scented the scene, buttery in their enticing flavor, tempting any who came near. Two who did, however, seemed to be concerning themselves with other things than food.

Kohaku was Chinsei. She knew she'd have to talk to him about it eventually. She'd even wanted to know what had happened when she walked into Shippou's store that evening. But when it had come right down to it, she didn't think she was completely ready. Not ready to hear all the details, as gruesome as she expected them to be. For a little while longer, she wanted to be ignorant of it. For another couple days, at least, Chinsei-oniichan would still be Chinsei-oniichan, and not also her dear little brother Kohaku. Now that the memories were returning, she would likely learn everything on her own if she simply waited.

The fading indigo music of the cafe sounded richly sorrowful, and she closed her eyes only momentarily while listening to it as they passed by. If nothing else, she knew one thing. It wasn't his fault. She hadn't wanted to believe he'd worked willingly for their enemy, and Shippou had confirmed her hope. It was the second best thing she could hope for. The other was that he lived, and peacefully, that he continued and thrived after they defeated Naraku. That book Shippou gave them told her they had. The Shikon no Tama had been completed after a hellish struggle; Shippou's survival and her few flashes of memory that took place after the final battle confirmed that happy ending, at least. She would remember it on her own.

"Miroku?"

He had stopped momentarily to check the street; they'd arrived at an alley they had to cross, and he was glad he could at least look at her while standing still, and not walking.

"Miroku...don't tell onii-chan anything, yet, when you see him at school." She bit her lip and shifted uncomfortably. She wanted to be the one to speak with him eventually, not Miroku. "I want to be sure...that there really isn't a threat." She looked up at Miroku, managing a smile. She'd already stuck up for Mai once, and she'd continue to hope that the threat she brought was just that; a threat. Nothing more. Nothing to harm her family, not this time. "I don't want him involved until he has to be."

"I understand." Looking down into her face, he could tell how tenuous her smile was, an attempt to stand strong that teetered on the edge of tears. It was dark, right in the crux of the alley, with the snippets of the cafe's music occasionally reaching them as a ballad rose higher in tone. It was dark, but there were splashes of colored light laid out all behind them, and dull white light from the streetlamps above. Everything had been so peaceful, and now it seemed like there was a possibility it was all going to be ruined. It wasn't fair. He couldn't even do anything about it. "I'm sorry."

The tenuous smile faltered in puzzlement. "About what?"

He grimaced, wishing he knew a more elegant way of putting it. The words felt so plain, almost awkward. "If things do take a bad turn...I've never fought before. Not here, anyway. I don't know how much use I'll be now, but I'll do my best to help you." He grinned sheepishly. "I guess I'm not much of a hero anymore."

The worry in Sango's eyes lifted quietly, and though they remained sad, they were also warm and gentle. It felt strange to see him admitting a lacking in some ability. They'd always been a team before; they'd worked together as a team even as part of their larger group. If one needed help, the other was always there to fill in the for what the other did not possess. It wasn't any different now. Maybe neither of them fought monsters anymore, but that didn't change the way things had always been. The way she hoped they'd always be. She reached up and caressed his cheek lightly with her fingers, her smile beautiful and composed, calm as her touch tripped over the stem of his golden glasses.

She watched him as he closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, brushing the inside of her palm with his lips, kissing her cupped hand and then enclosing it in his larger one. Miroku used that delicate grasp to pull her slightly closer, using his other hand to brush away several strands of dark hair from her cheeks and forehead, reacquainting himself with the shape of her face and the softness of her skin, tracing her brows. Sango allowed herself to relax, his light touch reminding her of other memories, of other times this had happened, and how much she loved it. He could be frustrating and infuriating, but she loved the closeness and loved the warmth and the familiarity and the love.

Her lips were more sensitive than the palm of her hand, and the kiss was at first very soft. This contact was immediately familiar, comforting and so very simple to fall into, braced against him, arms tucked between them, hands curling into the fabric of his shirt as his slipped down her back, keeping her close without restraining. He tasted of memories; honey dipped and warm, of all the pleasant, wonderful things she'd experienced in that time long past. The dark things seemed to fade from her mind, even if it was just for this little while. There was this then, and there was this now, and they both let themselves understand that they had loved each other then, and they loved each other now, and it was sweet and good.

Their kiss was like that of old lovers, separated for ages, and having finally found each other again, of greeting, and of welcoming back home.

* * *

::turns into a big puddle of waffy mush::  
Otherwise...hm. Kagome had her little cameo in the fic. Inuyasha can't even be here, because honestly, I have no idea where the boy would be. I'm trying to make things run along with canon, and, well, lackage of end of series effects that. For all I know, hanyou can live five hundred years and Inuyasha's strolling around out there somewhere.  
And everyone's so confused. It just gets worse, too.  
Til next time.  
~Queen


	9. Kouga's Memories and a Chance Encounter

_Good Karma_

* * *

_How stupid could I be?_  
_A simpleton could see_  
_That you're no good for me_  
_But you're the only one I see._  
_Everything changes everything falls apart._  
_-Sarah MacLachlan, Stupid_

_

* * *

_

Chapter 8- _Kouga's Memories and a Chance Encounter_

Kotaishi was not happy. Not really miserable, but the kind of unhappiness that comes from feeling like you're completely in the dark about something you know you should know about, but don't. It felt confusing just to think about it. Now this. Who was this Senrei person and why was she sticking notes into his locker? Well, honestly, he couldn't say he didn't know who she was. Hers was one of the names that went up on the morning announcements every couple weeks, usually amid the victories or losses for the school athletic teams. So she was a jock chick. That did nothing to answer his question. Why did she want to talk to him? He'd never met her before in his life.

When he'd first gone to pull some books out of his locker at lunch, he's seen the folded up notebook paper sticking out of the ventilation slats in the door. At first thought, he'd assumed it was Mai, especially noticing the girly style handwriting used for his name. He was still rather pissed at her for dissapearing on him like that yesterday, and all she'd done before then was evade his questions. He had the feeling she was avoiding him, but he didn't have a clue as to why. Well, okay, the time before he'd been chasing her all the way down the street, she'd passed out in her apartment after having some sort of weird fit. Though that might make an awkward situation, it really wasn't a valid reason to pretend he didn't exist. He'd caught up to her before she got off school grounds, and she was already trying to brush past him. When he caught up to her and tried to ask...well, okay, when he'd _demanded _to know who this bastard Naraku guy was that she'd shouted about the day prior, she turned white as a sheet, horrified, and kept trying to run off.

It didn't make any sense. Of course, it was far too much to hope for that the note be an apology, or at least an explaination. It kind of felt like he'd been dumped. Not that he cared. At all. He grimaced. It was insulting! So now this Senrei jock chick girl was trying to contact him about some weird mysterious thing. Was she a friend of Mai's or something? What the hell was wrong with women? Can't they just tell him what the hell was going on? He was so confused. For what felt like the hundredth time that day, he reopened the note Senrei had stuck in his locker, and read her message again.

_Kotaishi,_

_I know you don't know me, but I have something very important to talk to you about after school today. Though I know you don't have any reason to want to speak with me, it really is important, and it will be worth your time. I'm sorry this sounds so vague, but I can explain better in person. I've written down directions to where we'd have to meet at the bottom of the note- it's just a shop in the older shopping district. One of my friends owns it. It's called The Fox Hole. Please come._

_Your friend,_  
_~Ryoushi Senrei_

The rest of the paper tapered off into directions and a sketchily drawn map and address. His friend. Uh-huh. This didn't sound like some sort of challenge, and he got the distinct feeling she wanted him to come alone. Though if this _Fox Hole_ place was owned by a friend of hers, then she wouldn't be. At least one other guy there, but whether or not that was a good thing he had no idea. Was she a friend of Mai's? Even if she was, and this was about that, Mai just didn't strike him as the type to call in a friend to do things for her. So he was back to square one. He didn't have a clue what this was about.

At the moment, he was moving quickly down towards the destination Senrei had marked on her note, now that school was out. It felt good to walk so fast, taking some of his frustration over his confusion out in a breakneck pace down the different streets and among the people and the tall buildings that aged the closer he drew. The pavement was cracked in places, weeds creeping through before shops that became increasingly older: kimono stores, jewlery stores and antique shops peppering the landscape, and the smell of different foods began to rise up from different vendors and cafes that were trying to emulate an old fashioned mood. There were a few tourists wandering around through the shops, laden with bags full of odds and ends. The clear sky and warmer temperatures were bringing people out, many simply wandering around.

He checked the map and directions again, then looked around for a sign. Despite the shoppers outside, the store with the sign '_The Fox Hole_' hanging above its door was surprisingly closed, heavy curtains pulled down in front of what should be a display window. The strangeness of the store being closed during prime shopping hours combined with the strangeness of the note made his hackles rise. There was something very strange going on with this. And though he didn't like it, he felt compelled to investigate. If someone was messing with him, he'd let them know exactly how much he disliked being messed with. It had better not be a game. Kotaishi quickly crossed the street to the store, not seeing any cars ready to come by and flatten him into roadkill.

It was an antique shop, he could see now. Closer to the sign, he saw the subtitle of _Antiques, Books, Collectables_ carved beneath the actual name. The fancy stained glass door glowed, showing that there were, at least, lights on inside, though the colored glass pieces were too opaque to allow him to see figures within. Was this Senrei girl already there? Probably...she'd called him out here. Glancing around, he checked to see if anyone was watching him while he glared at the door and wondered how wise this was. Still, what was the worst that could happen? He put his hand on the doorknob and pushed it inward, stepping up onto the polished hardwood floor of the interior.

Three people were standing inside, talking, all of who abruptly cut off their conversation at his entrance to stare at him. The girl he had to assume was Senrei was blinking at him with polite curiousity, as was the dark haired man standing beside her. The last of them was leaning up against one of the glass display cases, arms folded, and with a spreading smile on his face that was looking increasingly delighted.

None of them seemed to be ready to attack him or do anything particularly bad, so he stepped in and shut the door cautiously behind him, deciding that Mr. Stupidly Smiling Guy towards the back was the owner. He looked only marginally older than the other guy, but he looked most at home. This was his place, the others were only visitors amid the chaos of old collectables strewn in an organized mess around the store. Racks with carefully placed swords stood against walls, and sparkly stones glittered up from inside shiny glass cases, not far from odds and ends that looked like they belonged in Buddist or Shinto ceremonies. Bookcases were lining one of the walls, all filled and spilling over, a pair of cardboard boxes half unpacked with more brightly colored titles peering up through the top. An oversized boomerang had been hung from the rafters, and he wondered what kind of man could even attempt to hurl that huge thing.

Since none of them seemed to want to say anything, and instead simply stare at him, he looked at the girl. "You're Senrei?"

That seemed to snap her out of it, at least, and she nodded, gesturing at one of the folding chairs that had been set up in the aisle. "Ah, yes, have a seat..."

"I'll stand. What's going on?"

The question was ignored as Senrei and the dark haired man looked at Smiley Face again.

"Is it him?"

Smiley was nodding vigorously. "Oh yeah, it's definitely him."

Kotaishi was getting increasingly annoyed. They were talking about him as though he wasn't even there. "Do you all mind?" He held up the note in his fist and waved it around. "What is this about?"

Smiley Face laughed, and when Kotaishi shot a death glare at him, the smile was smothered and he sobered up, waving a hand dismissively. "Sorry, it's just it's been so long. I can't help but think it's all kind of funny sometimes."

They were jerking him around. Great. If they were just going to make fun of him for whatever reason, he'd leave. Screw them, he didn't need to take this. Kotaishi balled the paper up in his hand and turned back to the door, ready to jerk it open and leave.

"Wait, Kouga!"

He spun and snarled, "What?"

The three were looking at him oddly, wide eyed, even expectant. Kouga? Who the hell was Kouga? His brows drew together sharply as he watched them warily now, trying to decide what to do. Who was Kouga? Was he Kouga? No, he was Kotaishi...right? Their faces were melting into sympathy now, a sad smile on Senrei's face, a thoughtful half frown on the dark haired man's, and Smiley had a hand out and had stepped forward, having been the one to call him back. Looking from face to face, they were all unfamiliar, unrecognizable, but at the same time, he knew they weren't really enemies, and suspected there was more going on than he had thought possible. Slowly, very slowly, he edged back into the room, causing Smiley to relax and sigh.

"Tell me why I'm here."

Smiley looked a little sheepish, scratching the back of his head. "Sorry, we meant to...we didn't mean to stare or anything. I think we're all just glad to have found you. If you turned out to be somebody else, or not Kouga...eh," he smiled weakly, "we would have been a little stuck on how to explain things. But you are, so it doesn't matter." The smile shifted slightly into a considering look, his head tilting to the side and then peering forward. "You don't remember your name yet, do you?"

Still skeptical, Kotaishi folded his arms, but since his questions finally sounded like they were going to get answered, even if the answers made no sense, he decided to stick around awhile. He leaned up against the square of religious item cases in the center of the room, trying to keep himself from looking too anxious, and was fairly sure he was succeeding in covering it up with annoyance. And he was genuinely annoyed, so it didn't seem too difficult. "My name's Ookami Kotaishi," he stated, watching them for reactions. "My parents never told me I had another one."

Since it now seemed to the others that he was going to cooperate, the three of them looked relieved. Smiley still seemed to be in charge, and Kotaishi began to wonder if Senrei was just a means of getting in contact with him for whatever demented reason this was going to turn into. The situation was strange, but he couldn't really bring himself to actually distrust these three. He'd hear them out, at least.

"Well...I guess I should ask...do any of us seem at all familiar to you?"

He looked at them, and despite the faint sense that he could trust them despite the insanity of all this, he could honestly say, "No." They shifted around a little uneasily at that, and he wondered why. What did recognizing them have to do with anything? It seemed important to them, though he kept beating around the bush. "Would you mind cutting the crap? Get to the point."

Smiley sighed and shrugged, but didn't look surprised, holding up a finger warningly. "Okay. But you asked for it. I am serious about this." Kotaishi rolled his eyes and gestured for him to get on with it. Smiley shrugged again. "Basically, we all knew you five hundred years ago in your last life. We wanted to know if you'd been getting any of your memories back from then, since they've been getting theirs." Smiley jerked his thumb towards Senrei and the other guy, who were both looking like they were curiously awaiting his next words.

He must have looked a little shellshocked, because the other guy said, probably trying to sound encouraging, "We aren't making fun of you or anything," as though this were a perfectly normal thing to be told any old day of the week. Kotaishi rubbed his forehead.

"If Sango and Miroku are any indication, you should be getting at least a few memories back, even without...um, being around anyone else you'd really want to remember..." Smiley's words were a little halting, and Kotaishi looked at him suspiciously. He was hiding something. "Is there anything odd you've remembered? Anything at all?"

"Some things I remember in dreams..." Senrei offered, again trying to sound helpful. "They're fragmented, sometimes, but..." she trailed, unsure.

Were they serious? Really, honestly serious? It looked that way. He frowned, wishing he could back away without looking like he was retreating or afraid. They seemed too close suddenly, almost smothering in the dim little store. This was all ridiculous, he'd known it was all ridiculous, but dammit, why did he feel so cold all of a sudden? He clenched and unclenched his fists. What the hell was going on? He didn't know what he should expect when he stepped into the store, but this was definitely not it. People aren't even supposed to remember past lives!

Dreams, huh? Dreams like when you bury dozens of slaughtered men who rise up and laugh at you from a grave? What kind of dream was that? What kind of memory was that? This couldn't be the answer to anything. That dream was only a dream. The burying of men was just a fantasy. The laughing bloody eyed woman wasn't real. He'd already decided that, and didn't have any desire to unearth his suspicions again. If what they were trying to tell him was true, and that dream was not a dream, but some part of a memory, and that he really had buried the dead of his people who had been trapped and killed and murdered by a crimson eyed woman named-

Bells rang, and the door was pulled open, followed by the curious gaze of Kuraino Mai, who froze instantly when she saw Kotaishi standing only a few steps away from the door. Her expression was unreadable, beyond the look of surprise and the tense way she clutched at her satchel of textbooks. Her eyes rounded, and then she slowly moved her head, taking in the presence of the others standing in the room. Then she looked at Kotaishi again.

More interested in knowing who owned the name of Naraku, he'd never asked her why he'd wanted to call her by another name two days ago, when he placed her on her couch and draped a blanket over her, thinking she was sick. Maybe a little anemic, or something. A fit of some kind. Yesterday she'd avoided him, constantly snapping back at him any time he was close enough to try demanding an answer to who Naraku was. She knew. She knew the whole damn time. Shit, this was really happening. She fucking knew. Why? Was she mocking him? Rubbing it in for when he finally figured it out? Was she just going to laugh at him now? Dammit, some part of his brain had been screaming not to stay around her, and he'd just ignored it. He'd even known better. What an idiot. She probably thought he was the most moronic guy alive. He just fell for the entire thing. She knew. Dammit, she knew!

From behind him, the guy he'd mentally named Smiley was saying, "Kagura..."

She jerked slightly at her name, a white knuckled hand still on the door handle, the other clutching her satchel of books close to her chest. She was shaking, though none in the room could tell if it was from fear or from fury. "What is this?" Her eyes kept looking back and forth from one to another, the shaking of her shoulders becoming more visible by the moment. "What the hell is this?" Her voice rose in pitch, not quite breaking, but brittle. "Some sort of trick? Dammit, I haven't done anything to you!"

Kouga pounded his fist down on the glass beside him, not shattering it, but shaking it hard enough to make a deep hollow drone to accompany his own shout. "Like hell you haven't done anything!"

Whatever it was in what he had said stilled her, as though she had been smacked in the face. Half curled away before, she straightened, stiffly gathering whatever dignity she had around her like a cloak, and she lifted her head up, lips curling slightly into an icy curve as she looked at him, standing in the little patch of sunlight provided from the doorframe. Her voice was flat when she spoke. "You're an idiot. You always were. Stay the hell away from me for now on." She glanced furtively at the others. "All of you."

Before anyone could move, she spun away and slammed the door shut.

Several of the items hanging in the rafters shuddered at the sound, and when the echo of it died away, there was a drawn, lengthy silence.

Kotaishi wasn't sure if he was going to be sick. He was an idiot, huh? Yeah, he supposed he was. He wasn't in love with Mai or anything. There was that, at least. But he liked her. Being in her company wasn't dull; it was challenging. Interesting. He liked that. She'd even been nice to him. And now...he felt so stupid. Some sort of trick of hers, playing with him, then this. That look on her face right before she left...when she stood up and looked so conscendingly at them. So superior. Damn bitch, why was she doing this? That look on her face was no different from the look of her face in that nightmare. Until now, until now...he bit his lip, wishing he could punch something, hard. Stupid! Stupid! He'd kissed her! Twice! And he'd liked it!

Suddenly glad that these others who were definitely not Kagura had set out folding chairs, he dropped into the nearest one heavily, elbows on his knees and head in his hands, only distantly aware of the worried, pitying looks he was recieving. He didn't care. He'd seen her every day for the last few days. Why hadn't he put it all together then? Stupid, stupid...what, was she counting on that? She knew...it had to have been intentional. Was she really that cruel? Hell, she had to be.

"Why," he asked thickly, not lifting his head, "was _she_ here?"

There was some light shuffling, and then Senrei's voice. "I invited her, the same as you...I'd hoped things might be different..."

Kotaishi snorted derisively. Obviously she was far too optimistic.

He rubbed his face with his hands, as though to wake up from this dream, to be at home in his bed and with the television blaring loudly on underneath his room, and it would all be unreal. The impossibility of these happenings was as illogical as a dream, but nothing shifted or changed in that lucid, nightmarish way, and no one was dead and laughing at once. He was here now, though, and he could get answers to whatever questions he had. That was why he came, wasn't it? To find out. He'd wanted to know, and now...now he knew. A big lie. A horrible trick. Maybe she was trying to avoid him yesterday and today because she felt a little guilty. Sure. Somehow he doubted he'd ever see remorse on her haughty face.

Senrei spoke again, more haltingly. "I...saw the two of you together the other day...I thought the two of you were-"

"Nothing!" he snapped, interrupting, head jerking up to glare at her. "We're nothing. Don't ever say anything like that again." Senrei seemed to pull into herself as she went silent, the other man stepping closer rather protectively. He snorted. "If you're all from five hundred years ago...who are you supposed to be?"

They looked between each other, seemingly to ask who wanted to go first. "I'm Miroku," the dark haired man started, pointing towards himself. "I was a houshi, then. This," he gestured towards Senrei, "is Sango. She was a youkai taiji-ya. That was her weapon, up there." Kotaishi followed his indicating motion, and saw only the oversized boomerang. He looked at Sango again, and wondered how that was possible. That thing had to be unbelievably awkward to wield. But she used it against what?

"Youkai?"

"Yeah, youkai," Smiley cut in, and he turned to look at the man. He had to be in his mid-twenties, and at the moment had an oddly smug expression on his face, like a kid with a big secret. He was fumbling with his pockets, digging into his jeans, and then into the pocket of his shirt, finally producing...a leaf? "Like me. See?"

Kotaishi didn't even have any time to object before there was a large poof of blue-grey smoke, and the figure standing before him changed. Not drastically, other than the change of clothing. Instead of jeans and a white shirt, he looked like he should have been in some samurai movie, dressed in blue hakama and gi. Then something twitched around his legs, and a long, bushy tail swept around into his view. Kotaishi blinked several times. There was a kitsune standing in front of him. He blinked and looked again. A kitsune with fangs, pointy ears and a big poofy tail was standing in front of him and eagerly awaiting a reaction. He looked at Miroku and Sango. They seemed relatively uninterested in the whole thing, so he presumed they'd seen this before.

"You're a kitsune."

A huge smile. "Yup. I'm Shippou. Minamino Shippou, nowadays. I've just lived since then...that's why I could recognize you. I was just a kid back then." He held his hands up to estimate his former size. "You look pretty much exactly like Kouga." He waved at the back of his head. "Short hair now, though."

A monk, a...youkai taiji-ya, and a kitsune. A real, live kitsune. Somehow, in light of the events of the last few minutes, he just didn't feel particularly surprised. If someone told him he was secretly the emperor of Japan, he probably would just accept and go with it at this point. His non-girlfriend was actually a murdering monster, probably a youkai, since if kitsune were real, hell, they all must be...he had a monk and an abnormally strong youkai taiji-ya standing barely more than an armlength from him, and he was the incarnate of something too. Damn.

"And what was I? King of the universe?"

"Oh, no," Shippou corrected quickly. "You were just the prince of the wolf youkai."

Stare.

Prince of the wolf youkai.

Shippou smiled weakly. "Really. Ears, fangs, claws, tail...I remember the tail," he grimaced uncomfortably, wrinkling his nose. "Kind of had to ride on it this once, underneath...yuck that was so gross. You needed to wash that skirt thing of yours more often."

Kotaishi blanched and half leapt from his chair. "My _what?_"

Shippou backed up quickly, waving his hands frantically in hopes that Kouga was not about to try beating him to a pulp. He wouldn't have enough time to get him up into a foxfire hold the way he had Miroku the day he'd revealed himself then, and he didn't want anyone to get hurt in a scuffle. Fortunately, Miroku was already between them, and Sango was trying to explain. "Actually, all of your people wore those things...all the guys...your friends did too, the ones that were usually following you around...that's what Shippou said, anyway..."

"They did, honest!" the kitsune exclaimed, watching Kouga deflate again, looking more and more stupefied by the moment. He sank back into the folding chair, leaning over and looking at the ground, simply trying to take it all in. Great, now he was a guy in a dress. Mai probably got the hugest laugh out of that, too. Okay, so he was a prince. In a skirt. This was so weird. It did, though, explain why he felt so responsible for the deaths of the men he'd buried. Not understanding it before, it did have a certain amount of sense to it. Bizarre sense, but still sense.

He rubbed his face in his hands again, knowing that no matter how many times he wished he'd wake up, he already was awake. Finally understanding why the other two kept directing their questions to Shippou, he looked at the kitsune for an answer. "I don't remember much, but why are any of us remembering anything at all? That doesn't sound exactly normal."

"It's not," came the reply, and Shippou grabbed the second chair, which Kouga began to guess had been set out for Kagura, had this meeting gone very differently. Turning it around and sitting on it backwards, he draped his arms over the chair's back and began to talk. "I'll tell you the same as I told them a few days ago when we met. I'm not exactly sure why, and I don't have all the answers, but my best guess is that the story is starting over. This time and that time are connected through the well on the grounds of the Higurashi jinja not too far from here. In a few days, the girl who lives at that jinja is going to fall through her family's sealed up well and end up in the sengoku jidai. Where she'll eventually meet all of us." He sighed, shrugging, and rocked back on the legs of his chair, shaking his head. "It's just a theory, but it's the best I've got." His voice dropped slightly. "Do you remember Kagome?"

"Kagome..." A girl came running down the street in his mind, a bookbag on her back and waving, not to him, but to others, friends she was meeting. And she walked by without seeing him, not concerned with his presence. He'd wanted to run after her, without knowing why. He knew she was strong and kind and didn't take any nonsense from anyone. He smiled faintly at that. He'd done something she hadn't liked once, and she'd smacked him good for it. That's why he'd wanted to run after her and catch her; to talk to her again and find out what she was doing there. If she was doing all right, and if...an annoying blob of red and white that he thought was a person formed next to Kagome. Whoever it was better be taking care of her, or he'd beat the tar out of him.

Shippou was chuckling, and it eventually got loud enough to bring Kouga back to reality, straight into the kitsune's amused laughter. "I'll take that as a yes, judging by your face."

"What?" he demanded petulantly.

"I take it you remember Kagome, is all."

Kouga glowered at him sourly until Sango interjected, "You saw her yesterday on the street. I was there too. That's when I started putting a few things together. We all thought it best to try to contact you."

Kagura as well, he noted, but didn't say anything. "If I saw Kagome on the street here, how is it that I can remember her in the...you said we were in the sengoku jidai?"

Shippou dropped the back legs of his chair to the ground with a thud, and nodded as he resettled himself. "Sango and Miroku have heard all this before, but it's probably best I start at the beginning." He reached over to the counter, and unable to quite touch an old leatherbound book resting there, Miroku handed it to him. On the cover was written '_Epic Tales of Mediaeval Japan: Condensed Edition_' and Shippou began flipping through the stiff old pages, releasing the smell of yellowed paper and dust between them. "I'm not going to read straight from the book or anything because there's lots of wrong stuff, but you can look through if you want. Basically, everything starts out a long time before we even came in, with this really powerful miko named Midoriko..."

* * *

Water, ice cold, was pouring from the faucet in the girls' bathroom early in the morning. Pale hands dipped into the stream, cupped, and then tossed the liquid up into the face of a tired Kagura. She repeated the process several times, feeling the coldness numb her skin a little, though waking her up as the water wetted the fringes of her bangs and trickled down her face and neck. Cold. She needed to stay awake. It was bound to be a long day. She turned off the tap and clutched the sides of the standard issue white porcelain sink, knuckles turning white from the pressure.

She squeezed her eyes shut, blinking them hard and trying to stay awake. She was so damn tired. Last night had begun with a nightmare and then only wakeful restlessness came to her. Though glad it wasn't a real memory, the thought of those people waiting for her in the antique shop just kept floating back into her mind, all their weapons drawn and sharp and aimed at her, while Kotaishi seemed bent on taking Naraku's place in history, and was busy crushing her heart instead. Bastard. Her heart ached just from the thought of it, of echoing pains long gone.

Why? Would they just attack her because of who she was? That Senrei girl had even helped her out earlier in the week. She'd been inclined to trust her, at that. They were the good guys, right? What was there to fear? Kagura snorted, and looked up into the mirror screwed into the white tile wall of the bathroom at school. Some girl had used a pen to eternally ink that she loved her boyfriend into the corner, and then later visciously scribbled it out. The corner was cracked, though the mirror remained mostly intact. The whole place smelled of bleach and pine scented cleaner.

Only reason to fear was if you were one of the bad guys, and well, she sure as hell seemed to be one of those. Fun...she remembered how much fun it had been, to lift her hand to the side, a fan in her fingers, raise it, and move the air as easily as she breathed. The wind...it was like her own hand, an extension of part of her, something so natural, so simple, it was easy to revel in the sense of motion, and the act of exercising that motion. She didn't regret those deaths then, and her memories from the past felt as much her own as anything from this lifetime. She couldn't bring herself to regret now, either. It wasn't just that bastard Kotaishi either. There were other things, and even now...she wondered if she would behave any differently, knowing the concequences would be her own certain death. Probably not.

The face in the mirror smiled a cold smile. Alone. She just wanted to be left alone. Kagami-oneechan was like her, a detachment, and onee-chan understood. She wouldn't hate her, or judge her, even if it was because she'd probably done similar things. Too much was still unremembered or unclear; Kagura still didn't know what exactly her sister had done before, but then, it seemed like they hadn't been very close in the past, so she may not have been present for many things. Onee-chan wouldn't hate her, like Kouga probably did now. On the edge of the sink, she balled a fist and slammed it onto the edge. Damn him anyway. Stupid, stupid. Shit, first time she ever kissed a guy and he turns out to be the one person in the world who would most likely want to see her dead. Goody. What a pick. Dumbass. It wasn't fair.

She sighed, hearing footsteps entering. The bathroom and hallways were empty this early, but time was ticking by, and they would fill with other students, and she wouldn't have any privacy until she got home. Resolute, she straightened up and picked up her bag of books, resting against the wall, only to turn and see a startled Senrei standing at the corner of the bathroom's entrance. Kagura ground her teeth and hissed.

"I thought I told all of you to leave me the hell alone!"

"Wait!" Sango exclaimed, quickly stepping forward to intercept Kagura before the other girl got a chance to leave. It was a good opportunity, considering how badly the previous night had gone. It had been long, the telling of the story of what happened, even if it was a rough version. Going through everything, moment by moment, was impossible for a telling in one night, even if it was only from one person's- Shippou's- perspective. Especially with interuptions from the audience, trying to place together their own memories of the story. On top of that, Kouga had been unable to give them any answers to the question of Naraku's current existence or wherebouts. It was still pure speculation that he had returned, but the reason for their fear was standing before her right now.

"I wasn't following you," Sango continued, watching Kagura carefully. This was her chance to ask what she couldn't yesterday. It was too good to pass up. "I skipped practice yesterday so I could meet with you and Kouga. I just came early to run some laps..." Kagura was looking critically at the red and yellow gym uniform she was sporting, and the half open duffel bag full of regular school clothes. Fortunately, she seemed to believe it, though the suspicion remained. "The locker rooms were still locked...I just came in to change...that's all."

Kagura sniffed and made another move towards the door. "Fine. Then change. I was just leaving."

"Wait!"

The response was practically a snarl. "What?"

Sango looked pained, trying desperately to think of how to place her words. If nothing else, she had to ask about Naraku. That was paramount to any of her other questions. When they'd asked Kouga, he'd just replied that Kagura had once said something about him being a bastard, and stubbornly refused to say any more about why or what had been happening under the circumstances, eyes locked on the floor. Miroku had eventually convinced Shippou and herself to ease up with the questioning, since whatever it was seemed to be of a more personal nature, causing the reluctance to share, and the rudeness of prying.

Still, that left the question as to why Kagura would be calling Naraku a bastard, in any situation. He was one, obviously, but why would one of his lackeys be calling him that? Then again, it was Kagura, and it seemed like they never really knew what she was up to on her own. Shippou had once mentioned her never revealing about Inuyasha's weakness, a time once a month of his being human, and a perfect opportunity to attack. Though learning this had strengthened Sango's resolve to discover Kagura's current state of connection to Naraku, the others seemed, to varying degrees, against it. To Shippou, it was simply five hundred years later, and things were exactly as they had been; Miroku only counseled caution, thinking it was too dangerous, especially after the outburst at the store, and Kouga...Kouga, at the moment, had been too worked up to listen to reason.

Part of her needed to think no one was exactly the same. For Kohaku's sake, if nothing else.

She took a deep breath and began, voice echoing slightly in the white tiled room. "Yesterday...yesterday I only invited you to talk. That's all. We didn't mean anything by it."

Kagura folded her arms, pursing her lips together, expectantly. Sango quickly plunged ahead, thinking she would hear her out, at least. "Please believe me. We just wanted to ask you what you knew, or if there were any others like us you'd found. We're just worried, that's all. What happened with Kouga-"

"I don't care what happened with Kouga," Kagura snapped, "or what you're worried about. I haven't done a damn thing to any of you in this era, so there's no reason for all of you to be chasing me around," she stamped her foot, eyes flicking around the bathroom, "anywhere. Yeah, I was a big scary horrible youkai. Evil, horrible murderer. I'm as human as you are now. You have no right to accuse me of anything!"

Accuse? No, no, she was taking this all wrong! Frustrated, Sango shook her head frantically, dropping her bag of clothes and books to the floor. "I'm not accusing you! Just listen-"  
"Why should I?" came the immediate response.

"Because..." Sango trailed, sighing, "it's important. Kagura...I just want to know...about Naraku..."

The words trailed off as the expression on Kagura's face went from defensive to dangerous, eyes narrowing as her posture changed, dropping into a more cautious stance, leaning forward and looking ready for a fight. Startled at her sudden intensity, Sango resisted stepping back out of sheer surprise. "And just because I'm me, I'm supposed to know everything about that fucking bastard?"

That bastard. There it was again, as Kouga had said last night. And these circumstances she understood. It was her opinion, pure and simple. She could deal with that. It was also getting tiring dealing with what seemed like Kagura's permanently aggressive attitude. More determined, she stood her ground with an equally combatative stance. She needed to know, and Kagura had to go through her to get out of this room. Everything was quiet outside, and as she was recently reminded, Kagura was a human now, meaning that she didn't have any special ways of fighting other than that sharp tongue of hers. She wasn't in any danger, so there was no reason to let the younger girl get away with her attitude.

"Just answer me one question then." The wariness in her eyes increased, but she said nothing. "Has Naraku returned as well?"

Those wary eyes seemed to widen fractionally, and a momentary look of panic crossed them, before they went ice cold, accompanied with words of such simple seriousness that Sango was afraid of how much she meant them.

"If he has," she said, "I'll kill him."

Kagura straightened, and though she didn't relax, she seemed to have decided she was done here, and was making that her cue to leave. Then she laughed once, looking at Sango's face, quietly but without amusement. "You look so surprised, Senrei-sempai." She hesitated, then tilted her head to the side. "Or whatever your name was."

"Sango."

Kagura nodded once, cautiously, then looked away, both past Sango and through her. If it was true, and if all she, at least, had wanted to do yesterday was talk, then maybe at least one of them could be reasoned with. Kouga was out of the question, but this Sango, at least, wasn't screaming at her. She had been kind enough to interrupt her arguement with Shoukon. "I don't remember everything, but I know you and your group of friends had a hard time back then." She hugged her bookbag to her chest and began to walk out, noticing that Sango was looking too surprised at her sudden willingness to talk to stop her. She deliberately failed to mention that she herself had been the occasional source of those hard times.

"If Naraku is back..." she began, the thought chilling her, though she thought it clear where Sango and the others had gotten the idea; if she, Kagura, had returned, then who else? It was logical, and she should have considered it before. Naraku was, of course, the greatest threat if it was so.

To a degree, she knew it was the truth, but she'd be damned if she'd tell them her sister was Kanna. Kagami-oneechan had no part in this. Sango was only asking about Naraku, and if she volunteered the information that two of the detachments were alive, it would only make matters worse. There were two jars in that room of his, one belonging to Kagura, one to Kanna. There was no need to drag her sister into this mess. If Naraku had returned, there was no way either of them were going to return to what they were. She wouldn't let it happen. Crushing, killing, all from the inside, a magical heart attack. "If he's back, I'll kill him. You and your friends weren't the only ones suffering."

Sango watched her bolt from the bathroom, steps echoing for a moment and then fading away.

* * *

Told you the confusion would get worse, didn't I?

Can't you just see Shippou trying to show Kouga what happened with some of those lovely crayon pictures he's always drawing in the anime? ^.^

Anyway, I thought I would mention it; I've said a couple times in the fic that there are two jars in Naraku's room- one is Kagura's, that we know. There are, indeed, two jars if you watch the anime. (I haven't been able to see that particular scene in the manga yet.) Which always left me wondering what was in the other jar. Here's my reasoning: Kagura's heart is in one jar. Her behavior, usually, could be described as 'heartless.' Kanna's behavior, pretty much all the time, is 'souless.' If Kagura's behavior is heartless and her heart is in the jar, and it's never said what's in the second jar, would it not be a logical assumption that Kanna's soul (or at least her heart) was in the second jar? I'm working on that concept...I hope that all makes sense. o.o Besides, there were only two detachments when Naraku was explaining the whole heart-in-a-jar concept to Kagura, and what else would be put in there? Somebody's kidneys?

Til next time.  
~Queen


	10. Kanna, As Approached By Naraku

_Good Karma_

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* * *

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_Chapter 9- Kanna, As Approached By Naraku_

Classes that begin at eight in the morning, Miroku decided, are evil incarnate. Especially when you have a confused, stubborn former youkai wolf prince asking all kinds of bizarre questions until the middle of the night about things most of them could only speculate on, considering they didn't have any answers. Miroku could swear Kouga asked at least fifty times why no one knew whether or not Naraku was back. It wasn't a bad question, certainly one they'd asked themselves at least as often, but they'd told him an equal number of times that was part of why they'd invited him and Kagura to meet them at the antique shop. Bringing up Kagura's name was more than a sore spot at the moment, and had either the effect of sending him into a nonsensical tirade or making him sit and sulk. It wasn't until Shippou reminded him that had he not decided to shout at her before any of the rest of them could speak, they might know the answer to his question. That shut him up, but led to a prolonged bout of glowering.

Overall, though, it hadn't been a waste. Another old ally was found, and though it had been irritating, Miroku couldn't really blame Kouga for his mood. Memories of the wolf youkai were still vague, but he didn't think that he'd stay that sullen for very long. Miroku yawned as he walked down the sidewalk on campus towards his dorm. Time for a nap. Most of the other residents of the rooms would be out, either in classes or roaming around, so it should be fairly quiet. The only real advantage of having the eight A.M. class was seeing Chinsei, and trying to determine if he was acting any different. Not that Sango couldn't probably tell earlier and better, but it gave Miroku something to think about while the professor droned on.

He reached a hand around into his backpack and shoved pencils and pens around, searching for his keys. It was going to be another long day. He had the bad feeling that Sango, despite his own and Shippou's reservations, may try to contact Kagura on her own. It would be too easy for her to do so. At the same time, he couldn't help but be curious as well, and if they were in a school, there was little chance of anything really dangerous happening. He found his keys and looked up, turning onto the sidewalk that led to his dorm. Outside the building, a woman in a navy blue pantsuit was waiting, leaning against the red brick beside the front door, hands clasped and looking down. Long, snow white hair was falling over her shoulders and stirring in the breeze. She seemed to be waiting for someone.

As Miroku drew closer, he could see her watching him from under the fringe of her bangs. She was unusual, but beautifully so, though her watchfulness was slightly disturbing, her eyes a brown so deep it was black. He put on his most winning smile, partly out of curiosity, partly out of an inability to pass on talking to a random pretty woman who was standing outside his dorm's front door. "Are you waiting for someone?" he asked politely, vaguely glad Sango was not there to whack him over the head. Ah, memories of the old days...

She smiled very faintly in response, straightening up from where she had been leaning, brushing an errant lock of hair back behind her shoulder with a small, graceful hand. "Actually, I was waiting for you."

Miroku's brows shot up. Did his reputation precede him? Because he definitely had not met her before. Her looks were far too unique to be easily forgotten, and there was an odd, spidery quality about the soft way she spoke, a faint, almost childlike whisper that could easily have been eerie on a dark night. But it was the middle of the morning, and this petite woman was probably more odd than actually spooky. Sunlight tended to drain away scariness. Who was she and why was she looking for him? "You have me at a disadvantage, then," he replied cheerfully, keeping the smile fixed in place.

"That was my intention."

He blinked, smile faltering at an increased amount of confusion, and unsure what to make of a line like that. Maybe he should be a little more cautious. That was not something you heard in normal conversation, and with all the strange things that had been happening over the last few days, caution couldn't hurt. She was watching him while he recovered, a brow arched delicately, head tilted to the side in thought and consideration. She closed her eyes momentarily, then looked at him, black eyes unreadable as she spoke. "The past can be altered by changing the present. Naraku has already been defeated before; there is very little to lose now."

Wide eyed, he took in what she said, trying to consider it all in at once. Naraku. She knew of Naraku. Therefore, she was also a reincarnate. Of who? Friend? Enemy? Why tell him this? How did she find him? How did she know? And what did she mean 'alter the past by changing the present'? That was backwards, the present didn't effect the past...unless...such as in the case of Kagome...who took with her the Shikon no Tama...a girl who would transcend time.

The woman of the white hair was turning away, heels clicking emptily against the sidewalk.

Miroku caught up to her within a stride, maneuvering around in front of her to see her face when she spoke. Whoever she was, she was dangerous. She must have been an enemy; had she been a friend, there was no reason for her to try walking away so quickly and with such a cryptic message. Still, if she was an enemy, why tell him anything at all?

"Who were you?"

She did not look at his face, but past him towards the wind filled green trees lining the street, speaking to the air more than to Miroku.

"Me? I was Kanna."

Well, that was one answer, not that it meant much to him at the moment. Kanna. He'd have to call Shippou. She apparently wasn't very talkative. "Why tell me this?"

Kanna shrugged. "Naraku has approached me. He trusted no one, but I had the fortune of spending more time with him than most. I thought perhaps you would want to be forewarned about an attack upon your friend."

So she had been an enemy. That made this warning even more suspicious; why tell him? They'd never really established any final opinion on Kagura, and now there was another ally of Naraku walking around, and by her own words, she was closer to him. "If you work for Naraku, why are you telling me this?"

At that, she finally looked up into his face, her expression blandly amused, with a small, almost coy smile. "I never said I _work_ for Naraku. I do not wish to return to what I was before. That is all."

She stepped around him, and without looking back, walked away.

Miroku stared after her a moment, then fumbled through his backpack, shoving the keys back into their pocket and whipping out his cell phone, quickly scanned his address book, punching in the number for _The Fox Hole_. Kanna was making calm, steady progress up the street, walking as though absolutely nothing was out of the ordinary, seeming to enjoy the view of the maple trees that were planted along the street. Her white hair marked her out from the few other people that were moving through the area, some walking, one jogging, and another on a bicycle, whizzing by quickly.

Change the past by changing the present? Was that even possible? Kagome had the Shikon no Tama inside of her, yet to be freed, and if what Kanna was suggesting was an attack on Kagome now, before it was removed, then yes, the past could be effected- effected drastically- by the present. But if Naraku was making this attack because he knew he lost in the past, didn't that also mean a loss in the present was foreordained, because Kagome had already gone back? Ugh, paradoxes...who was supposed to deal with problems like this? Physicists? Novelists? Science fiction geeks? Certainly not former monks. What a headache.

The ringing on the phone stopped. "Moshi moshi, this is _Fox Hole Antiques_, Shippou speaking. Can I help you?"

"Shippou, I just talked to Kanna."

There was a pause on the other end, then, "_What?_" Another pause, then sudden shuffling, along with Shippou's nervous laughter, and him speaking to someone in the store. "Sorry, ma'am, just a personal matter, that's all...yes, I'm fine...no, no my grandfather is still in the hospital...sorry...yes, thank you..." There was some muffled noises again, and then Shippou returned. "You shouldn't put things like that, Miroku, you scared the shit out of me. You _talked_ to _Kanna?_ Where? When? Now? Are you okay?"

Miroku watched as Kanna hesitated beside one of the benches lining the street, looked both ways, then crossed. "Yes, now. She's just leaving. Is she that dangerous or should I call her back?"

There was a frustrated grunt from the other end of the phone, and Miroku could imagine Shippou running a hand through his hair and looking either panicked or annoyed. "I don't know. Depends on what she said. And yeah, I would consider someone who can suck your soul out of you dangerous."

"She sucked souls out of people?" Well, at least that explained the empty expression. It fit her. If she'd been laughing and skipping around...weird. He sighed and turned, heading back towards the parking lot and his car. So much for his nice relaxing nap. "I'm fine, Shippou, but I'm on my way over. I'll be there in a few minutes. We have a serious problem."

"What did she tell you?"

"Kagome-sama is going to be attacked."

Another pause. "When?"

"Before her birthday, apparently. That's what, day after tomorrow?"

"Yes. Miroku, don't come here. Go find Sango and Kouga...ugh, wait, they're still in school, can't pull them out...okay, meet me at Kagome's middle school. You know where it is?"

Miroku ran through a mental map of the area. He'd been to the high school, and the middle school wasn't far away. "Yes. I'll meet you in the parking lot. I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Meet you there. Ja."

Click. Miroku turned his phone off and stuck it back into his bag, getting out his keys. He wasn't sure how much help he'd be if something happened today at the school, but he couldn't not be there. Was it even possible for Naraku to successfully change the present? It was strange thinking of it that way...people were always wanting to change the future by changing the present...by taking the Shikon no Tama from Kagome too early, past and present would be changed, and certainly the future. How, though? It was impossible to say. Naraku, in a human form...he had to be in a human form, if he was going to attack. What did he look like? How would he fight, if he was human? Before, he could change shape, make use of youkai, reform himself stronger, use barriers, and had assistance from detachments like Kagura and...Kanna. Kanna was a detachment as well. But she didn't seem to be working for him now, if she was warning them. A double cross? She freely admitted association with him. Was she telling the truth though? Was it a trap? Naraku had been fond of traps...

He opened his car door and revved the engine. Maybe Shippou would have some ideas. Or Sango or Kouga when they got out of school. They may not be much anymore, but he doubted if any of them would just pass on this information, trap or not. Something had to be done. Their previous happily ever after was at stake.

* * *

Kagome was almost to the steps leading to her home, and Kouga was not very far behind her. Lagging half a block back, he had his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his brown trenchcoat, slowly moving forward at a languid, casual pace, careful to ensure that he spent plenty of time looking at objects other than the middle school girl walking along before him. His wandering gaze was not only for reasons of remaining inconspicuous to passerby, but also to scan for any signs of attackers. There really was no way for him to know what to expect; Naraku could be any age, shape, appearance. Kouga wasn't entirely sure that he'd just come swinging out of one of the trees screaming wildly, but then he didn't have a better idea of what to expect.

The sun was setting now, marking the late evening. Sinking below the roofs of the many houses and buildings to the west, it was staining the sky in bright oranges and yellows, the clouds not just yet turning the deeper shades of blue nighttime. The wind was holding its breath, and the earlier breeze was now still. Kouga wasn't sure what he'd do once Kagome reached her home. He couldn't follow her up there without being noticed. He'd been tracking her for most of the late afternoon, buying a newspaper and sitting across the street on a bench with it while she and her friends studied and ate burgers in the front window of a restaurant. He felt like a stalker or something; creepy feeling. He didn't like it at all, but somebody had to keep an eye on her, or else she'd end up hurt. Or dead. Though he'd expected one of the others to show up eventually, none of them had, much to his surprise.

Then again, he'd left them in the school parking lot, running off on his own to find her. Miroku had begun telling them about how he was contacted by a woman named Kanna, and of how she claimed to have been in contact with Naraku; that the evil lunatic was going to try to attack Kagome in this time to influence the past. Maybe he should have listened a little longer, but he'd been furious they'd left her alone even just to come and spread the information. One of them could have done that. Both Miroku and Shippou were not necessary to relate a story. So he'd chased after her in hopes of protecting her.

It left him wondering why, exactly, he wanted to do this so much. He never thought before what he'd been told about the past had been edited. Condensed, yes, but not edited. Would they hide something from him? Probably. It was annoying, being unable to access memories that should have been his. Hearing the story of their last lives had brought him several new memories, but he still felt far behind the others in knowledge, despite their only having a few days lead on him. They'd had each other and he'd had...Mai. He snorted angrily. As good as nothing. Kagome wouldn't act like that...hiding things. Kagome was kind, and good, and...he grimaced. There was no foundation for him to base those feelings on, not as Kotaishi, still lacking too much. Those thoughts were tantalizing, and he wondered why they kept coming. Had he been in love with her?

Thoughts like that, though, stirred memories of disappointment, disbelief, even anger. That obnoxious, faceless blob of red and white that kept hovering around her was the cause, somehow, he knew. The others identified it as Inuyasha. Smelly, stinking dog turd. Could he, as Kouga, really have lost to him? It gave him the halting feeling that, were his suspicion true, the affection had been one sided, and he was dumped without much consideration. Why did that seem to be happening so much lately? Kagome had reached the steps to her jinja, and was hopping up the lower ones two at a time, backpack bouncing against her back. She paused only a moment to bow politely to a visitor descending back to the street, then was moving quickly past to her home.

The young man reached the lower steps, then turned to watch her reach the upper level, disappearing through the red torii and onto the shrine grounds. Then he looked at Kouga, and the former wolf youkai felt himself getting defensive at the look. It was Shippou, in his human guise and clothes, and he had a strangely cold expression on his face, something Kouga didn't really think belonged there. He was angry about something, and was trying not to show it.

"I checked the grounds," Shippou said by way of beginning, voice a little tight, as he looked down from the second step, "and it's clear. Go home."

"Someone should be staying with her-"

"_I'm_ staying with her!" Shippou snapped, glaring down at Kouga, who was so taken aback by the strange outburst that he actually did take a step back, hands slipping out of his pockets as he blinked up at what he had assumed to be a fairly easygoing kitsune. What was his problem? He knew enough about what happened to know someone had to watch her, and he was still reluctant to leave.

"What suddenly got stuck up your ass?" Kouga barked, stepping back forward and returning the glare, wishing Shippou was not still on the steps. It gave him an unfair height advantage, letting him loom more than he should. "You told me her life was in danger!"

"She's not yours to protect!"

Kouga's hands curled into fists. Not his to protect? Maybe so. It didn't give Shippou the right to yell at him about it. "And what, she's yours?" he snarled back. "I didn't see you watching her today! What right do you have to tell me what I should or shouldn't do?"

He knew he'd said something wrong when Shippou, instead of shouting back, simply shook his head, then looked at him levelly, almost pityingly. "Kagome and Inuyasha took care of me when I was little. I was by myself, my parents were dead, and I was on my own. So yeah, I'd say I have the right to protect her. I owe her that."

Shippou's sad look turned into a serious frown, the same kind he saw on parents right before they scolded their children, and he almost cringed at the thought. "As for watching her today, I'm a kitsune. I'm an over five hundred year old kitsune who not only can track, but can change appearance at will." The frown turned into an outright glare, and his voice rose sharply, scathing. "Do you seriously think you'd notice me if I were following you all day? You're five hundred years too early if you think you can pass my abilities as you are right now! Grow up, Kouga! You're acting like a kid, and that's not the kind of attitude that we need right now! I know you worked more or less on your own before, but dammit, the rest of us worked as a team then and we need to work as a team now! Kouga, wake up, because on your own, you're just not strong enough!"

_You're not strong enough._

Where had he heard that line before? Oh yeah. Kagura said that to him when he asked her about Naraku. Asked her who he was, and why she'd be calling him a bastard before passing out and collapsing onto the floor of her kitchen, a sudden burst of wind whipping open the cabinet doors and sending their contents bashing their way to the ground. Now he was hearing it from Shippou. Someone who should have been an ally. What was wrong with all these people?  
"And..." he said haltingly, "you are?"

The fury faded from Shippou's face a little, and was replaced by deep concern, causing him to look balefully away. "No. That's why we need help. None of us have a clue how strong Naraku is now. It's unlikely he's stronger than he was in the past, but if he's been around longer than we've even been aware of each other, then he'd have time to plan. He was always...good at that."

Yeah. Good at that. He ordered Kagura to slaughter his people, hadn't he? Naraku had set that up, she'd carried it out. Why? What the hell had he or any of the wolves done to deserve that kind of fate? Maybe they'd been greedy, wanting shards of the shikon jewel, but it was far from being a fair end. Faceless, nameless people he was responsible for. Hell, he couldn't even think of what they looked like or were named now. It was almost ironic. Casualties, fatalities, all without anyone who really remembered them. Lost somewhere in history, unwritten. Who were they? What did they like to do? What did he do, when he wasn't chasing Naraku all over the countryside? Had to remember. Had to at least try to remember...

Not strong enough. He didn't even know if he'd been able to get revenge five hundred years ago. He supposed he could ask Shippou, but now wasn't the time for such things. How had he died? When? Did he die fighting Naraku? Fighting...fighting Kagura? How had she died? Had he killed her? Had she killed him? How had Naraku died? Why couldn't he remember? He just wanted to protect Kagome, too...but she didn't need him. She had that stupid dog.

He could see Kagura in his head, rolling her eyes and calling him an idiot.

"Kouga."

Sullenly, he looked up, and saw Shippou regarding him quietly, the anger having evaporated with his last words. "Go home. Get some sleep. Meet the others at the store tomorrow after school, and they'll catch you up. You ran off before you heard everything, and some was important. I'll take over for now."

He shoved his hands back into his pockets, pulling the coat around him a little more, despite the lack of cold. It had gotten darker in the last few minutes, and it would be a moonless night. The first stars were starting to fade in, and the yellows of earlier had deepened into blue and purple. He wanted to argue more, but it would be pointless. Shippou probably was right. He was a kitsune, and if he wanted to remain undetected, it probably wasn't a problem for him. Grow up, huh? Work with others, huh? Yeah, he could do that. He had been a leader before. There was nothing stopping him from doing so again. He looked at Shippou, resolutely standing at the base of the steps and waiting for him to take his leave. Acting childish? Selfish, even? Maybe he was acting like an idiot, after all.

Kouga pulled his collar up and stiffly began to walk away, leaving Shippou silently behind.

If he was going to work with the rest of them as a team, he'd do better this time. Nobody was going to die. And if that meant having to listen to the stupid kitsune, then dammit, he'd listen, as much as he hated it. If not for their own sake, then for those who had died before, for those who he couldn't even remember names. He would remember them. All of them.

"Good night, Shippou."

And he left.

* * *

_The Next Day_

The hallway was, as usual after a day full of classes, busy. Sango suppressed a yawn; yesterday had been a long day, today had been a long day, and today wasn't even over yet. She needed to find Kouga, wherever he was in the building. He'd have to come down the stairs, and out the front gate...that was the most likely place to find him, if she kept her eyes peeled. Wearily, she hefted her duffel bag on her shoulder and took a deep breath. This wasn't the time to be drowsy. She could sleep after this was over, however much of a mess it was going to become. There could be fighting. No, there was more than likely going to be fighting. It made her nervous. Miroku had already understood that concept the other day, with what he had said to her after leaving Shippou's store. She fought a blush, hoping no one would notice her odd expression, with fingers to her lips and pinkness on her cheeks. It was true, though, now that she thought about it. Now that the concept of actually...going into battle..._battle_...was becoming real. She'd never even been in a girl's cat fight before, much less a real fight that had the possibility of injury...or even death. She shivered, feeling her stomach turn over. Her old memories, memories of the sengoku jidai, felt as much hers now as they did then. But they were long-ago memories, things that were far away, not immediate, and therefore easier to set aside and ignore. She could die. Miroku could die. Kagome-chan, if they failed, could die. The suddenness of that reality striking was a shock.

"Senrei? Senrei! Are you okay?" Sango felt someone tugging on her sleeve, and she stopped, the bodies of other students shifting to flow around the two girls standing in the middle of the hallway. Okyo's short haired head was poking around in front of her, brows lifted into a politely worried look that was questioning the spacey expression in Sango's eyes. "You look a little pale."

Sango quickly drew herself out of her worries. This wasn't the time or place, and the last thing she needed was a nosy Okyo or Furin-chan needling her. What one knew, both knew, and though they were discreet enough not to make a grand issue out of anything, they were persistent enough to accidentally involve themselves. Okyo had followed her out of class, and it would only be a moment before Furin made it down the hallway to meet them, expecting to walk most of the way home together, or head to practice together, depending on the day. Smiling, she shook her head and waved her hands, hoping she could think of something to tell her friend before she pried too much. "Just tired, really. I'm going to skip practice again today. Something came up."

The inquisitive expression grew into a more concerned one. "You've been missing a lot lately, Senrei..." her tone sharpened slightly. "It's not that new boyfriend of yours, is it? You only started missing when you started dating him...he's not giving you trouble is he? You made him sound pretty nice before, but if he is..." she cracked her knuckles meaningfully, with complete, if vaguely comical seriousness. "He's a dead man."

Sango covered her mouth with a hand as she laughed at the prospect of most of the girls track team beating down Miroku. She didn't doubt they'd try it. Probably succeed too. Okyo had stopped her demonstration of bone-cracking, and was smiling now, though there was still solemnity in her eyes. "Really, Senrei, are you okay? I mean it. It's not like you to miss."

Sighing, Sango shook her head, knowing she needed to escape Okyo soon, or she'd miss finding Kouga. That, and Furin would arrive, and she'd get trapped talking far too long. "Really, Okyo, I'm fine..." an idea occurred to her, and she looked at Okyo in the eyes, hoping to convince her with what was not really a lie. "It's not me...it's one of my family friends...there's a guy who's following her around lately, and she's kind of scared to go home with just her middle school friends." Sango lifted up her own arm posed as though to show off her muscles, grinning as though it was partly a joke. Besides, if Kagome knew what was after her, she probably _would_ be scared to go home with her normal middle school friends. "I'm a big bad senior. That, and with...Haiboku...around," she waved her hand, "anyone bothering her is going to bugger off real quick. The guy's actually a little dangerous, Okyo. I'm worried about Kagome-chan."

Okyo had straightened up and listened carefully through the story, noticing the guarded, if honest way her friend was talking. There was still parts she didn't know, but there was truth in what she was saying, particularly the last part. Whatever it was, Senrei really did seem to think he was dangerous. "Do you want me to come along?" she offered, now worried. Was the guy a psycho or something? Couldn't they get a restraining order? Who knew what kind of loonies were out there. And there was Senrei, trying to be a heroine. Yeesh, she could get hurt herself.

"No, don't." Sango told her quickly, stepping forward in emphasis. "Don't get involved. It'll be fine. I'm going to look for someone else...another old friend of Kagome-chan's...there's someone keeping an eye out on her now, over at the middle school, too. It's just a bad situation, Okyo..."

Okyo was looking very worried now, only reflecting what she was seeing in Sango. Something serious was going on, and it was a little frightening to see her friend this way, now backing up to leave. "I've got to go. I'll see you later, all right?"

Still disturbed at what she'd been told, Okyo found herself nodding in agreement, hands clasped together as Sango turned her back, heading quickly through the now thinning after school rush. Hopefully Kouga had sense enough to look for her. Sango rounded the corner, only to see Kouga stalking forward himself, looking in and out of the rooms he passed, hands shoved into the pockets of his brown trenchcoat, seemingly annoyed.

"Kou...Kotaishi!" Sango broke off, remembering where they were. It was so ridiculous to have to check names like that. It was the same with Miroku...she'd nearly called him that in front of Okyo, who would definitely have questioned the sudden name change. Kouga's annoyed expression eased somewhat when he looked up to see her, and he stopped, waiting for her to catch up. He still looked bothered by something, lips puckered into a frown. "I was going to look for you..." Sango began by way of meeting, continuing on her way without stopping. Kouga fell into step beside her, silently.

"I was looking for you, too. Didn't see you in the crowd, so I came this way. Are we headed to the middle school?"

She shook her head as they reached the foyer area, heading out through the front steps. Lengthening her stride, they moved swiftly away from the rest of the milling student body, quick steps heading them from the school. "No. We're to meet Miroku at the shop. First off, because we need to get you caught up on what you missed yesterday," he grunted at that, but said nothing, and she made note of it. Apparently he'd decided to bite his tongue for a bit and work with everyone. Good. "Second, I realized last night I don't like the prospect of wandering around on some sort of superhero patrol unarmed. I want a weapon. I want hiraikotsu back."

They were past the front gate of the school, and Sango shifted the strap of her bag over her other shoulder, so it was suspended across her back and chest, unable to slip off her shoulder when she was clear to run. Leaning forward, she slowly went from a fast walk to a light jog, Kouga keeping pace, seeming to pick up on her wish to hurry. Her duffel wasn't meant to be run with, and it jarred against her hip as she finally took flight, out of the way of any other students. Her companion's steps kept pace, catching up to hers a moment later, and they ran.

"You think you can still use that huge thing?"

Sango frowned, knowing that was going to be a real point of argument from Miroku later. The problem was, she didn't know if she could. She felt sure she was strong enough to carry it, at least. Hurl it was another matter. She remembered throwing it. Kind of remembered how to hold it when throwing it...it just felt wrong not having the thing with her. "Honestly, I'm not sure. If nothing else, I can use it as a shield. None of us are armed, and there's a good chance what we're up against will be."

Glancing at him, he seemed to simply take this, and then he veered off to the side. "This way, through the alley...shortcut." Now a stride behind him, she pressed forward a little, disliking the idea of trespassing through other people's property, but they really were in a hurry. Garbage cans lined the backs of buildings, and a moment later, they burst past them, once again matching strides. In the alley, she was stuck with his coat flapping around by her. Oddly, she was finding their race both fun and funny.

They turned a corner, and Sango held herself in check, conserving her breathing and not wanting to press too hard until the end. They still had a way to go. "Oy, Sango...you're keeping up."

She looked over at him, and he actually did seem surprised. Nodding, she returned her gaze to the front, speeding up a little so they wouldn't have to stop at the Walk light just ahead that was momentarily lit. "I'm captain of the girl's track team," she huffed between strides. "And you're not a shikon shard powered Road Runner anymore." She grinned in satisfaction as she pulled ahead by a stride. "What do you expect?"

He snorted at her point, and they sped past the Walk sign just as it changed, ducking around the slower pedestrians just making it to the other side. Another burst of speed from Kouga, and they were tied again, swinging around to cross the street where it wasn't busy. "Oy, Sango?" Kouga began, realizing that his breath was actually starting to draw up short...they had to be going awfully fast... "Shippou's with Kagome, right?"

"Yeah."

"Are we taking over for him, or what?"

She shook her head furtively, dodging around a surprised couple out for a stroll. Past her obstacle, she called back, "No. We'll probably stay outside the jinja, while he's moving somewhere around the grounds. Lookouts, something like that."

"What if there was an attack during today?"

Sango bit her lip. If there was an attack during the day, they were in trouble. Shippou would be on his own, and whether he was able to fend off an attacker like Naraku definitely remained to be seen. He was worried about it, though tried to be cheerful. It was part of the reason, she was sure, he got so angry when Kouga first ran off yesterday. He didn't feel confident, and wanted whatever back up he could get. It was the best he could do. Instead, she told Kouga what she did know. "Shippou has Miroku's cell phone number. They'll get in contact. If Miroku doesn't show up, we get to Kagome's, right away."

Kouga nodded once, and they were finally forced to momentarily slow for a stop light crossing along with another person, nose buried in a book and not paying attention to what was happening around her anyway. "Also, about Kanna..." Sango added, using the moment to breathe deeply between words, restoring oxygen to her lungs, "she didn't seem to want to help Naraku much."

That earned her a sour, guarded look. He sniffed between gasps of air, half bent over, hands on his knees, looking up. "Which means what?"

Thinking about Kagura again, Sango assumed. She'd tell him about that particular encounter when they were at the shop. There was no time here, and she knew he'd have more, probably loud and opinionated, responses and questions to that. The cars that had been moving along the street before them stilled, and the two of them began to run again, the woman on the corner obliviously turning a page of her book, beaming blissfully into the text.

"Couple of things. One is that she's honest and doesn't want to work for Naraku, like she said. The other is that she's lying and it's part of some trap. She warned us, though how it could be a trap we haven't got ideas. It could be a double cross, but it just doesn't feel right."

"And this was all yesterday?"

"Yes."

They were almost to the store, the street pulling into view as they rounded the last corner. There weren't as many people out today, which was fortunate considering the breakneck speed the two of them were putting on. Kouga began to lean forward, managing to pull ahead of Sango slightly, coat flying out behind him as they sped down the old, cracked sidewalk past other old shops and stores, the smell of foods permeating the air.

Just a little further...Sango smiled, and put on a final burst of speed, throwing herself forward and rushing past Kouga right as they passed the final store. Perhaps she was making a small point, but it was one he needed to understand as well. None of them were quite what they were before. They were vulnerable, and he couldn't think like he was a youkai any longer. He wasn't able to move so fast anymore, not able to race the wind and pace it. She knew this. Miroku knew this, and Kouga had to know it too. These days were not those days.

Her hand smacked the brass door handle of the _Fox Hole_, and she turned, then slumped to sit on the single step leading to the entrance, back against the stained glass door. Breathing hard, she gulped down some air, then found herself smiling. That was definitely something she wouldn't have believed before. Outrun Kouga. Even barely. Strange. The lights inside were off, the curtains in the front window were drawn, and the 'closed' sign was sitting in the corner. Miroku's car also didn't seem to be sitting in the street yet, though there were a few empty spaces right in front of them.

"You okay?" she rasped after a moment, nearly laughing at his winded glare.

"Yeah."

Reaching behind her, she checked the doorknob, and as she expected, it was locked. No, Miroku definitely was not there yet. What was taking so long? She'd expected him to beat them there by quite a bit. Kouga was moving to lean against the windowpane, sitting precariously on the edge below the glass. "Sango?"

"Yes?"

He was looking down at the ground, shoulders still moving heavily as he caught his breath again. It was the same expression as two days ago, when they'd first found him and told him who he was. Serious, but now more subdued, no longer angry, but filled with an undercurrent of worry that she knew was present in the rest of them. Rubbing his face with his hands, he looked like there was something unpleasant on his mind, and she wondered what he was going to start into now.

"You remember anything...bad...about before?"

"We've all had bad things that have come up...why?"

He shook his head and grimaced, not looking at her. "Just been trying to remember how I lived back then." He shrugged, then looked up as a car pulled into the slot before them, Miroku, visible through the windshield, hurriedly stuffing keys into his pocket and stepping out as Sango and Kouga stood to meet him.

"Sorry I'm late," he apologized immediately, locking his car doors and hurrying towards the door with a spare key Shippou had given him. "I got caught by the professor from hell on my way out of class. He wouldn't let me get out of there." A moment later the door was swinging open, and the three of them were bustling inside, the room full of old collectables cool in the early evening, what few shafts of light that slipped in through breaks in the curtain revealing floating motes of dust. Miroku was searching around, finally finding the switches and flipping them on, white fluorescent light filling the place instantly.

"Shippou was following her home, when I last talked to him," Miroku told them as he pulled his cell phone out of the inner pocket of his light jacket and set it on the cashwrap. "I guess she decided not to hang around with her friends all day today."

Miroku was looking at Kouga, who seemed to be fixated on the floor, lips pressed together and not seeming to pay much attention to what was being said. "Kouga?"

He lifted his head sharply. "I'm listening, I'm listening. What else did I miss? Sango told me about whatever it was Kanna said probably being a trap."

"It's possible that's the case," Miroku agreed, then noticed that Sango was clambering up on top of one of the cases, swinging her knees under her, then standing precariously on the glass, taking care not to bump her head against the suspended wires holding up the familiar form of hiraikotsu. "Sango?"

"I'm taking hiraikotsu," she replied, carefully detaching tiny metal hooks from the leather wrappings around one end of the boomerang, and setting it cautiously down as she moved towards the other side of it, lifting it off its hooks and slowly letting one end touch the ground. "I don't like the idea of going into a fight unarmed. This thing isn't that heavy..." busy leaping lightly to the ground, she didn't notice the wide eyed, disbelieving looks on the faces of the boys. "And I remember throwing it. Even if I don't have any real practice in this era," she tested out the old grip, feeling the strange balancing weight of the weapon, "I'm going to try. If nothing else, it'll serve as a shield." She swung it around before her in example, most of her figure hidden behind the larger weapon. Running a hand down its side, she noticed it had been well cared for down the years, and seemed to have aged well; then, it was made of sharpened youkai bone, and youkai were both tough and aged slowly. This was no normal old weapon.

Neither being ready to argue with her when thus armed, Miroku and Kouga simply accepted the fact she wanted to tote a giant boomerang around with her all night. How were they going to fit the thing in the car?

"So," said Sango with a determined air, "that just leaves Kagura."

As expected, Kouga made a growling noise in annoyance, folding his arms and settling in to be stubborn. "What about her?"

"I met her yesterday, in the girls bathroom." She sent a warning look to Miroku, who, though he had heard this already, looked exasperated. "What she said then, along with what Kanna said, makes me think that they really aren't working for Naraku anymore."

Kouga rolled his eyes and snorted in disbelief. "And what did the bitch say that you'd believe her? Tell you some shitty sob story? I can't believe you fell for it."

"You seemed to," Miroku reminded him pleasantly, earning an evil glare in return.

"It was a trick!"

Miroku's brows lifted. "So you really think she just strung you along for the fun of it?"

Kouga glowered. It wasn't fair for them to gang up on him like this. Miroku probably even agreed with him- he was just helping Sango because she was Sango. Damn it sucked to be outnumbered like this. And here he was, trying to get along with everyone...

"I don't know exactly how to retell it all to you, Kouga," Sango said, leaning hiraikotsu against the wall beside the door and moving towards the back counter. "What I did learn was that she, at least, didn't know about Naraku."

"She's lying!"

Sango continued calmly, gesturing for Miroku to step aside as she began searching through the drawers and cabinets under the cash register, finally finding a phone book and setting it out in front of her, looking down the alphabetical listings. "Kouga, you said that when you were with her that once, she called Naraku a," she paused politely, "bastard. That opinion doesn't seem to have changed." She flipped through the pages of phone numbers, finally stopping and looking downward for a long moment. "We fought her too, you know." Sango reminded Kouga quietly. "She was our enemy as well. She tried to kill us, same as you. But she's not acting right this time. If someone who worked for Naraku before can break free from that in this life, then I'm going to do my best to see it happen. I have no intention of letting my brother get stuck in that cycle again. I need to take this chance."

Her hands rested lightly on the open pages of the phone book, and the others watched her in silence.

Then Miroku picked up his cell phone, which he had set down on the counter when they first walked in, and held it out to her. "Invite her, if you want. If she doesn't show, then she doesn't show."

The pair glanced over towards Kouga, who had an uncomfortable, unreadable look in his eyes, arms still stoutly folded as he looked at the ground. "Do what you want," he muttered, then moved towards the door, the bells ringing loudly in the quiet. "I'll be outside."

The door slammed shut behind him.

"Well," Miroku said with a wince, "that went better than I expected."

Sango gave him a half hearted smile, and received one in return before looking down and running a finger along the different names and numbers. "She said her last name was Kuraino...that can't be too common...Kouga said something about an apartment once, too...so it must be this one. It's the only apartment listed under the name. Kuraino, K." She began punching in the numbers beside the name and address, and a moment later, the phone began to ring.

On the fourth ring, Sango began to think that Kagura hadn't gotten home yet, and that entire last part of their conversation with Kouga might not have been needed. Then, just as the answering machine began to kick on, there was a half breathless, "Moshi moshi? Gah, damn thing, turn off..." the recording abruptly stopped with an accompanying pounding sound, and then Kagura's voice repeated, "Moshi moshi? Kuraino residence."

"Kagura?"

There was a long, drawn out pause, and Sango was half afraid she was going to hear the sound of a phone slamming into its cradle. Instead, there was a harsh sounding, "What?"

"This is Sango..."

"No shit. What do you want?"

Sango took a deep breath, trying to keep herself calm. Kagura was certainly not trying to make this easier on her. "I thought you might be interested in knowing some information on Naraku."

There was another pause, and she could hear the steady breathing of Kagura through the phone line. Her reply was tight. "What?"

"He's alive."

On the other end of the phone, soft sounds of things shifting came echoing in the background, and Sango wondered if perhaps Kagura had dropped her bookbag to sit on the floor. "You're not lying, are you?"

"No." There was continued silence, and the only way Sango knew Kagura was still on the line was the soft, now ragged sound of her breathing coming tinnily through the phone. She looked at Miroku, who was inquisitively watching, waiting to hear something useful, or indicative of what Kagura might be saying. "Kagura...we're going to be at the Higurashi Jinja...if you meant what you said earlier..." her voice trailed off, unsure at the continued quiet.

A moment later, Kagura asked, "Kouga is going to be with you, isn't he?"

That Sango hadn't quite expected, but she answered promptly. "Yes."

"Why are you asking me to come?"

"Because...we hoped you'd help...after what you said earlier...I thought..." she faltered, not sure of how to explain such things over the phone and in only a few quick words that Kagura would understand. It was not out of any sense of trickery, which was what Sango feared Kagura might think. It wasn't even because any of them truly hoped she'd side with them...it was Sango's wish to see things change. Would Kagura understand that? Would she even remember Kohaku? Any of their real reasons would be incomprehensible. And so her stumbling words sounded half hearted.

"Don't use terms like 'we' when you're the only one who's even trying to hope I'll be some great nice person now. What do you expect to accomplish? You're all too weak to fight him in the first place. Good luck at the jinja. I'll come to your funerals."

Dial tone.

Sango sighed, looking at the glowing face of Miroku's cell phone for a moment, then turned it off and handed it back.

"I take it that didn't go as well as expected," Miroku gathered, and tucked the phone back into his jacket. "What did she say?"

Sango sighed, shoulders slumping. It was all she could do. She felt a little stupid, making such a fuss...if Kagura had come, then she'd at least have the feeling of being vindicated for her troubles. Miroku, watching her crestfallen face, lightly set his hands on her shoulders and held her until she pulled back, shaking her head. "We should just go...she's not coming."

With a solemn nod of understanding, they edged out of the small back counter area, and headed out themselves, the bells sounding one last time as Miroku held the door open for Sango, once again burdened with the weight of hiraikotsu.

The door locked with a click behind them.

* * *

Preparation for the end- check. Pissed off and defensive Kagura- check. Pissed off and defensive Kouga wondering about his previous life- check. Battle ready taiji-ya- check. Kanna randomly trumpeting information- also check.

So, everything is in place. Two more chapters to go.

I finally got to see the Naraku-explains-the-heart-thing to Kagura in the manga, and there as well as in the anime there are two jars, so I'm not imagining things as far as the existence of a second jar. Yay.

Otherwise...the finale is ready to go.

Til next time.  
~Queen


	11. The Red Herring, Onigumo

_Good Karma_

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* * *

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_And yet, 'tis a noble and heroic thing, the wind!_  
_who ever conquered it?_  
_In every fight it has the last and bitterest blow._  
_-Moby Dick, Herman Melville_

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* * *

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_Chapter 10-_ _The Red Herring, Onigumo_

There lay books, scattered, across the carpet in the living room of Kagura and Kanna's apartment, as well as the bookbag from which they had been pulled. Some of the textbooks were open, exposing their paper insides, with black letters and colorful pictures on some of their pages. One of these pages had caught the breeze from the open window just above it, and was flapping idly in the otherwise silent room. At least it was silent, until Kagura picked up one of the cushions behind her and tossed it at the wall across from her, out of sheer frustration. How much time had passed since the phone had rung? An hour? Hour and a half? The sun was setting, providing the only light coming into the room through the open curtains over the windows. The pillow landed with a soft plumping sound, and the noise of the paper resumed.

Tucking her knees up to her chin, she wrapped her arms around her legs and stared in angry annoyance at the bottle of silver nail polish and the file sitting on the coffee table in front of her, awaiting her use. She'd tried several things to calm down and relax ever since hearing Sango say the words that Naraku was alive. Pacing. Watching tv. Studying. Pacing again. She'd successfully managed to change out of her school uniform and into a pair of loose grey pants and a tank top, in which she was currently perched on the couch, bare feet tipping just over the edge and curling.

They were insane, all of them. Sango and Kouga and the two other men who had been in that antique shop that Sango had summoned her to. They were probably reincarnates as well. All of them were going to just go and throw their lives away trying to fight Naraku. Or some incarnation of his, or whatever. It was stupid; they had to be crazy. Why? Why would they even think of attempting such a thing? And why at the local jinja? What was so special about there? Heh, Naraku probably had some demented scheme in mind, as usual. Probably wanted them to go there. They'd walk straight into it. Then the trap would spring, the moment they were all inside, and he would strike. None of them had ever watched him form such plans up close, none ever had to carry them out. Who did they think they were? Didn't stand a chance as they were now.

And that left her where?

Alone, save for Kagami-oneechan. Nee-chan was really all she needed in order to get by...the nameless men, Sango...Kouga, too, the ass. She survived just fine before seeing any of them. It wasn't like they were her friends. The instant they found out, 'Oh no, it's Kagura!' what happened? Instant revulsion. She hadn't even done anything to make them think she was an enemy now; it was unfair to be judged on her past life in such a way. Not that she wanted to be all friendly with them now. Idiots.

She was frustrated, and frustrated with her frustration, which only served to make her even further upset. Standing, she began pacing, but had little success in her prowling around the room, since she had to continuously step over or around books. She began shoving them aside with her feet, until most were under the coffee table or in corners. Reaching up, she tugged at the little white feather attached to the headband in her hair, and then wished it would do some good to smack her own hand. Bad habit. Bad because she knew she did it when she was nervous. They probably could die out there. Really die. Not like in some video game or show. Her eyes strayed over to the corner of the room, where she and Kouga had stood the other day, still quite blissfully oblivious to who and what they were. Irritated, she looked away. Fat lot of good that would do for her. How pathetic she was, thinking maybe she'd found herself a boyfriend. How completely and hopelessly ridiculous. She was Kagura the evil bitch, right? Why the hell would he possibly want her?

Dropping down onto the corner of the couch, began tapping one foot against the surface of the floor. Where was nee-chan? Did she know anything about this? Hell, if Naraku was out there, were either of them even safe? Maybe they should move...move far away, to...to China, or somewhere. If Naraku was back- and since she really didn't believe Sango would be horrible enough to lie to her, she took it for granted that he was- then would he come after them? Kagami-oneechan wouldn't want to go back to him either, she was sure. Actually, it was nee-chan who was in more danger, regardless. She'd known who she was for years, and had even regained some, if not most, of her powers, somehow. She might be Kagura, but she still had all the magical powers she'd had a week ago. Which was about none. Kanna was strong, and that made her more useful.

The tapping of her foot against the floor was becoming obnoxious, even to herself, so she stood, and turned around once or twice, trying to decide where to go. Maybe she should put on some music or something while she waited. Something, anything at all, to distract herself. They were really going to go out to die at that jinja. It was insane, stupidly insane. None of them took down Naraku in the past- hell, she herself could and probably had defeated them before. She knew she'd fought Kouga at least. Now the lunatic was going to go get himself killed in this lifetime. If he couldn't even defeat her, how the hell did he think he could take on Naraku? There was no sense to it! What in the world would drive a bunch of people into going after him on their own? There had to be other ways, in this era. Personally, she wouldn't go against Naraku with anything less than a bazooka in this day and age.

In her room, she rifled through the little stack of cd's that sat on her desk, the plastic cases clattering against each other as she moved them around. What should she listen to? Something loud to fit her mood? Something gentle to calm her down? Which? What to decide on? She hated Naraku so much, and despite her hard words to Sango yesterday, they seemed so weak now. Kill him, right. There was no time to plan on her own, no way to prepare. To go out would be suicide.

"This is hopeless!" she half shouted into the cd's, tossing them back into their stack and watching as the top cases slid down and clattered loudly to the floor, one of the covers snapping off in the process. She pounded a fist onto the surface of her desk, the vibration of it sending the little fan she perched on the wall above tipping, then drifting down onto the old manga issues she had kept in a pile beneath it. The fan was so old now; the paper was growing thin from being out in the air, and from times when the sunlight came in through her window and pressed on it. Her window was closed now, but the shade was open, and only dusky, shadowy light was coming in through the glass that did not face the west.

Suddenly tired, she sat down on her desk's chair, picking up her fan carefully and setting it gently back onto its supporting tacks, arranging it so it slanted at an attractive angle in the soft gloom of its corner. It was just a cheap little fan. A cheap little fan from a fair when she was a child, something she barely remembered. Rather sad, actually, that she could remember having her heart sporadically crushed in a previous life more readily than first getting her favorite childhood toy. There was a span of time when she always told Kagami-oneechan she wanted to grow up to be a geisha. Not a doctor or a fireman or anything. Someone who danced, and danced beautifully, like her name. Either of her names. Lightly, she traced the ridge of the paper with a finger, feeling the folds of the end zigzag under her touch. Though she was careful, the fan tipped again, and floated back to the top of her desk.

The frail wooden bones of the fan were just visible beneath the paper, white with a red stripe. Deep vermillion faded, beside pure dusty white. A contrast of colors she'd always liked, reminiscent of the curve of the moon with just a little blood slipping down it.

What was Naraku like now? Probably less powerful. He couldn't be stronger than he was in the sengoku jidai, especially if he was stuck in a fully human body. It wasn't like you could summon youkai to you to be absorbed in this day and age. There may be a few reincarnated youkai like herself around, but that wouldn't do him much good. It was too bad she couldn't take this fan, this little old toy paper fan, and wave it, and send out one, just one, Fuujin no Mai. The thought brought a half smile to her face. Mai. Damn ironic, that. One would be enough. Just one. To chop the bastard's head off, so he could never reach any kind of paradise.

She'd probably be killed first, if she tried to attack him. He probably knew she was alive, and probably planned for either reaction- inaction, or aid. If he did know she was alive, though...then did he know where she lived? Did he know where Kagami-oneechan worked? There were any number of possibilities of what could happen. Either one of them could be hurt, killed, or worse...controlled or coerced. Picking up the fan, she realized how light it was, and delicate. The wooden frame would probably snap under much pressure, though its thinness probably gave it some resilience. It had lasted this long, and she knew she'd used it often as a child.

How had she died, before? Had she lived? Really lived, free of him once he was killed? Or had she gone down, betraying him? The concept of dying while fighting one of Kouga's group seemed revolting. There was no way she would have died still under his control.

If he came again, what would she do?

Where was Kanna? Where was nee-chan? She was so late today. Not even a telephone call of warning.

There was no one she knew of that was alive today that would be strong enough to fight Naraku in combat. Not if he even had half his strength from the sengoku jidai.

Kagura picked up her fan and carefully collapsed it, the bleached wood creaking in mute protest at the movement. Equally carefully, she opened it again, turning it over experimentally and waving it once. Even if she thought she could make any kind of wind blade jump out of it, her bedroom was not the best place to try. Who knew? She might blow up half the building.

That might be kind of cool on one hand, but on the other, she didn't want to even think about how to explain something like that to an insurance company. Talk about scary.

Naraku would definitely want onee-chan's regained powers. Why the other group seemed to be interested in the jinja, she didn't know, but knowing what she did of the way Naraku worked, there had to be something important there that she didn't know about yet. The others had to be aware of it then, if that's where they were meeting. It was insane. Simply insane.

She folded the fan up again and tapped the tip of it against her chin in thought. No powers. None of them probably even knew how to use weapons, unless one of them managed to procure a gun somehow. Kouga probably still could brawl, though what good that would do she didn't know. He'd go blindly charging in and get his ass kicked like usual, unless his opponent didn't plan ahead either. Which was not the case with Naraku.

What did they think they could accomplish? Any of them? Of them, she was probably the one with the most memories of the bastard, having the great misfortune of having to live in that stinking miasma filled castle of his. Did any of them even think to set up a trap of their own somewhere? A battle plan? Tactics? Probably not. None of them struck her as particularly cunning or clever. Well, okay, she hadn't met the two others that had been in the antique shop, so it was possible they had some form of strategy besides 'lets run around and do our best.' Quick way to get killed, that.

Looking down, she could see her shadow stretching out beyond her, towards the door to the living room. She could see her mess of books lying under the coffee table. Kagami would probably be annoyed seeing them like that, but stack them up neatly and not say a word, any admonishing done in silence. Kagami-oneechan would be in danger, too. More than most of them, since Naraku would want her more, due to her powers.

Could going really change anything? If she did go to this Higurashi Jinja, would her presence alter the inevitable battle? Heh. She was just Kagura. Just Mai, actually, since she was human. She snorted. In the end, humans must be damn scary creatures, really. Youkai were powerful, but it wasn't a planet full of youkai you saw walking down the street every day. Humans trampled everything in their path.

Were they fighting even now?

Now that the sun was down, and her shadow was just from the streetlights? It was nighttime.

Kagura stood. It didn't matter what they thought of her coming. Even if they lost, it was a way to spit in Naraku's face, one last time.

And who knew? Maybe the others would stop thinking she really was an enemy.

Even if this was a really stupid idea. Or if she cared what they thought.

Kagura pulled her jacket off the back of her chair and slipped it on, tucking her old paper fan into the inner pocket for luck. She was probably going to need it.

* * *

The grounds of the Higurashi Jinja were silent in the crescent moonlight, laden with the shadowy dimness that precluded the day in which a young girl would fall through a well, and into a time not her own. Lights were still shining inside the Higurashi home, and occasionally a figure could be seen moving from room to room, talking on the phone or carrying a bushel of towels, depending on which person momentarily walked by a window. These windows provided most of the yellowy light in the stone courtyard, allowing one, lone figure to meander his way without stumble.

Interested particularly in watching the window on the second floor of the house, he wore a small smile temporarily on his lips, one of anticipation, though he would, often enough, glance around to be certain he remained unseen. The best time to begin would be after everyone went to sleep, and the house was dark. The family would be easy targets, and it was likely by the time anyone discovered them the next day...well, he wouldn't have to worry about much by the time anyone found them the next day. By then, he would have the Shikon no Tama to himself, and it was unlikely anyone would be able to do much of anything then. The task was easy enough, armed as he was.

In the upper level window, a girl in pajamas appeared, tugging the curtains to a close, though light continued to press through the covering. He glanced at his watch. It was still early enough, though hopefully a family with students in it would retire early, so that he didn't have to skulk around in the darkness between buildings half the night. It was annoying, looking at the stupid shrine. He wanted to get this over with. Despite having many memories of the past, he actually hadn't ever killed anyone in this lifetime. That was about to change, but possessing the power inherent in the Shikon no Tama should be enough to soothe his poor tortured soul. A smile quirked on his lips again at the thought. And such a crime should darken its shine rather nicely. The memory of its darkness was enticing.

The lights in the second storey went out then, as did the ones in the kitchen area. Checking his watch, it was only nine o'clock, still not very late; but at least it meant he could get this over with. With the lights out within the house, the outside was plunged into nearly complete darkness, little bits of artificial light coming from streetlamps to aid the glow of the moon. He began to walk forward, past that nasty oversized tree he remembered so well. Heh. One of the first things to do: cut that thing down. Disgusting memory. In his one trip there in the daylight, several weeks ago, he'd seen the little hole that marked the entrance of an arrow, shot from the bow of a miko in the sengoku jidai. The thing was living firewood, waving its branches in the air and rustling so smugly in the breeze, as though nothing could hurt it. He'd cut it down himself and watch it burn to cinders.

He turned his attention back to the house, and touched the uneven object he was keeping in the pocket of he coat. It was such an easy way to transport things. And even should someone stop him, what would they think? A little bit of foreign voodoo done by a high school boy named Shoukon. Magic wasn't very real in this era. Which made things difficult to create or obtain, but, when in hand, ever so convenient to use.

"So, that's the form you've taken in this life."

Shoukon froze, slowly turning back around with only a few steps left to reach the front door of the Higurashi home. The sound came from both above and behind, from the large leafy branches of the Goshinboku. For a moment, the crazed thought that the thing was talking occurred to him. He remembered stranger things. But then, from up in the branches, a figure dropped down, landing within the bit of fencing and then leaping easily away. Someone was watching him. He frowned, though knew to expect such things, and was prepared for it. His hand strayed back to the lump in his coat pocket, fingers curling around it. Specially prepared, it was his best way of handling attackers.

The opponent didn't look too big, even in the darkness. Though the shape was wrong, as well as the way he moved when jumping from the tree. He had a tail. A large, long one. And as he moved cautiously forward, Shoukon was able to see him better, as well as tell that the youkai was wary of him. "And who are you?"

"Shippou. I'm a friend of Kagome's."

He frowned, edging around the other man and trying to get some kind of view of what he was holding. A weapon, very likely. Naraku would have tricks up his sleeve, and many of them. In this case, it looked like that adage was literal. He was weaker then, as he'd hoped. Probably not able to transform into anything, since he wasn't a youkai, or a hanyou like before. He smelled completely human, and that was also encouraging. There was, though, the old, familiar stink of Naraku, the smell not of many, many youkai mashed together, but of miasma, the acrid smoky smell he hadn't been exposed to in so long. If he still had some way of creating that miasma, then that was likely his way of attacking Kagome...fill the house with the poison, wait awhile, then stroll on in, easy as can be. No mess. And any authorities would probably take it for a gas leak or carbon monoxide poisoning. Nice and clean.

"A friend, huh? Then you can die with her."

Shippou snorted. Cocky bastard. He sighed. As a human, Naraku just didn't look as scary, regardless of that nasty old familiar smirk on his face. Weird what becoming a real human would do. Still, he knew who he was up against, and the memory of seeing Naraku in his former hideous glory was enough to keep him scared to the core. Appearances were not enough to make him feel any easier. The present smell of miasma alone proved that Naraku still had at least some of his old powers. Then, he might as well get started, and he kept his tone as light as he could. Prolonging this fight was not going to help him. "Not right now, at least, thanks." If he could somehow manage to stop him here, then the Higurashi's would be safe, and out of harm's way.

Beneath his feet lay one, perfectly shaped green leaf.

Shippou picked it up, then tucked it in his pocket.

And then, the jinja disappeared.

A slight frown momentarily slipped across Naraku's face, Shippou noticed, as the illusionary little world of the Higurashi Jinja melted and twisted away into the reality of an empty lot several blocks away from the destination that he believed he had been standing in for at least the last half hour. Instead of watching the Higurashi household, he had been carefully running around a particularly well crafted mirage. Now, instead, there was the space of a couple houses, the land full of tall weeds and wild grasses, surrounded by a tall wooden fence. The only opening had been roped off, but that rope now lay snaking across the ground, untied. Streetlamps at various points down the street provided dim, steady light, save for one that kept popping off an on, an insect buzzing around inside it.

"Hm. Clever."

Shippou didn't reply, but instead braced himself, then began to sprint forward, hands up. Even as the one word of acknowledgment was spoken, Naraku was pulling whatever it was he'd been holding out of his pocket as he backed away, and was throwing it to the ground between them, hard enough so that one point lodged amongst the weeds. Still, it was tall enough for Shippou to see what it was, and that gave him warning enough to swerve away just as the earth around it began to churn and bubble, rising to cover up the little wooden form of the bare kugutsu, the single hair around it gleaming silver in the streetlights.

The ground cracked from beneath the weeds and pulled back, gathering around the kugutsu core before a rush of spiked limbs shot outward from it in all directions. Above, below, writhing, swinging. It was an old method of attack, and though Shippou knew kugutsu were weak, there was something immediately strange accompanying this particular one; the anticipated anomaly in what was expected. Miasma. The putrid smell of the poison gas had expanded and strengthened with the creation and growth of the thing.

One arm of the monster came shooting straight down, and in response, Shippou leapt up, springing from one side of the thing's arm to another, sweeping up. In the creation's core would be the wooden puppet itself. It would take only a moment to destroy it, but he had a bad feeling about cutting this monstrosity. The noxious stink had accompanied and grown with it. Dodging and ducking underneath a thickening arm of the kugutsu, another length was crashing downward, an attempt to flatten him from above. To either side were more tangles of the creature, closing in to bash from all sides.

Over the last five hundred years, Shippou had the opportunity to observe a lot of fighting. Not exactly being of great offensive use as a child, he'd ended up watching a particular hanyou beat things to a pulp all the time instead. Though as a child, this did him little good, seeing that his claws were still pretty small, and he didn't really want to face youkai several times his size anyway. However, he did get the advantage of seeing varied large, raging monsters get ripped to shreds. Once he had gotten large enough to actually fight, it hadn't been too hard to learn to imitate Inuyasha's old moves.

Go straight up, claws braced. Make contact. Don't just stab..._rip_.

The earthen arm of the kugutsu exploded into chunks of dirt and rock, flying up and around him before being pulled back down by gravity. Still slowly moving upward, clothes flapping in the air, Shippou twisted to look at what was seething below him. The square of the empty lot was being consumed by the kugutsu, and the thing looked like it would grow and grow until it could reach him. Already the higher fingers of the thing were straining upward, waiting for him to inevitably drop back down, sharp spines starting to prickle from their surface. Figures were running along the street, three of them, less than a minute run from the battle. They had heard the fighting then. Probably everyone had. Dogs were barking, and lights were coming on in the neighborhood. It would not be long before people came out, or the police were called. This had to end, quickly. He was starting to descend.

He glanced at Naraku, standing in one corner of the lot, hands in his pockets, a smile on his face, clearly enjoying the apparent success of his oversized kugutsu. Was he really that stupid in this era? Kugutsu were just big, lumbering, mindless monsters that attacked anything set on. One good hit and it would be gone...what was the catch? Why the pleased look? Something was wrong.

A thick purple fog was clouding around the shorn stump of the place Shippou had torn through. A dense pocket of miasma that was starting to unfurl. The area already reeking of the gas, it wasn't immediately noticeable. But it was growing. Coming from inside the growing kugutsu.

Shippou caught his breath, then wished to hold it against what was coming.

Cut the kugutsu, release the miasma.

All over the neighborhood around Kagome's house.

"Oh, _shit!_"

He was back within range of the sharp arms of the kugutsu, and they shot forward at him as he twisted midair, grabbing one and swinging around it, using it as leverage to dodge to one side and under the next spiked point intent on impaling him. Was there a way to contain it? If he could just cut through it, this would be over right now, but doing that would release that stinking...it was already getting stronger...miasma. Foxfire? Around the thing? How the hell did the kugutsu get miasma inside it? Miroku and the others would be there any second. There was no time to go digging through his pockets to see what he might turn up. Bringing kitsune-bi into the equation might be a bad idea. The kugutsu was tall, but dark...lighting up the sky would alert more people, and who knew how miasma would react to being set on fire? It could blow. Or just release the poison anyway. Damn houses in the way! Suburbia was just _not_ intended for magical fighting...

Several of the limbs came sweeping in from the sides and around, and though the kitsune had been leaping through and around them, he was finding himself being steadily backed into the far corner of the lot, against the fence. If he didn't charge, taking out the center, he'd be taken down. Inuyasha would be so disappointed in him, falling to a kugutsu, of all the stupid, mindless things. There had to be something to trap it...would killing Naraku, as controller, negate the effects? He spared a look through the plunging obstacle course he was running. It definitely should. The problem was getting to him around all these damn moving things.

He didn't hear the sound of feet arriving at the lot's entrance, though he did hear Miroku's alarmed shout.

It was promptly accompanied with a word he normally would have been thrilled to hear again. Normally.

"_Hiraikotsu!_"

"No! Don't-"

That cry rang out sharply, and Shippou's warning fell away as the boomerang impacted with a hard thwack into the nearest chunk of kugutsu, giving the three newcomers a good look at Shippou's horrified face before several arms close around him were torn to shreds by hiraikotsu's sharp end, releasing a cloud of strangely colored smoke.

He gagged, and in doing so, paused. A hacked off limb was still moving, and it crashed into him, full force, sending him flying into the fence and cracking it in half, landing in a pile of splinters and fractured wood.

The crackling smack and the scream of air sounded the return swing of hiraikotsu, and a very nervous Sango stood watching its spin, trying to watch only the shape of the boomerang, and not the forms of Miroku or Kouga, who were both moving at once, in different directions. She had to catch it. She had thrown it, thrown it the way she remembered it, with all the strength she had. It was enough, and for one moment, just as it left her hand, she thought everything was going to be okay. She remembered how to fight. She could fight. And then she heard Shippou crashing into the fence.

It was circling, circling, and Miroku was still in her sight, running towards Shippou, while Kouga made a straight line for a boy she didn't really remember looking at just now, but recognized and identified instantly from a few days prior. The boy at school in the hallway, fighting with Kagura. She called him Shoukon.

Shoukon was Naraku. Shoukon was Naraku.

And this thing he'd unleashed was raging in the middle of an empty lot, which, had it not been for Shippou's forethought, would have been Kagome-chan's house. It had already knocked down Shippou. He wasn't dead, he wasn't dead, he couldn't be dead after all this time, could he? No, no, not like that. Youkai were really strong, right? Right?

Sweep, sweep, the boomerang made its arc and swept around a final circle, and Sango had her hand in the air and she caught the moving weapon, stumbling back several steps and into the street before she could balance it again. Miroku was stuck in place, and coughing suddenly. It was strange, she thought, as she ran in, wondering if she could possibly manage another throw. Her arms already ached, and she knew that no matter how well she knew how to use it, her body was simply not trained for the weapon right now. Someone had to get to Shippou...Miroku was closest...she was the only one armed...she had to clear a path for him. Distract the huge...thing...whatever it was...away. Swinging hiraikotsu over her head like a giant axe, the first snaking arm to come close to her was crushed to the ground.

Not knowing what the hell it was that was in front of him, Kouga decided to take the most obvious course of action. Since the thing did not appear to be truly alive, that meant someone was controlling it. Since there was someone standing over in the near corner of the ground, looking far too happy to be on their side, he decided this was the most likely candidate for the person who he should beat the shit out of. Take out the controller, the rest should be easy. Especially since Sango had apparently remembered how to use her hiraikotsu, and was using it with great effectiveness in attempt to clear a path for Miroku, who was trying vainly to get to Shippou.

He ran. Fast. Pressing his luck, he hoped to tackle the bastard down before he even knew what was happening. If he was right, that monstrosity would be trash before it got a hit on Sango or Miroku. Unfortunately, the sleek smile that was watching the battle before their little corner turned smoothly to the side, almost casually, as though expecting him. The first blow was evaded.

Now with his arm overextended, Kouga jerked back and away from Naraku, just as a fist sailed through the space he was standing in. He could feel the air change as it passed by, and saw a slight opening. With one arm up, his opponent now had the same problem he was recovering from- he was off balance, unprepared, and open for a clear shot. Switching directions, he swung forward with his left fist instead, hoping to catch him in the face.

It failed, and instead he found himself caught, fist in hand, the two teenage boys struggling in a test of strength, arms locked in place as Kouga tried to force his way forward, and Naraku attempted to stop him. His arm crossed against his body, it would be difficult to attack in return. Kouga, though, held the advantage, able to turn and follow whatever way he chose to move.

His voice was sly. "Trying to stop me?"

The answer was a grunt, and increased pressure against him, forcing him to brace himself against the ground, feet digging into the churned up earth of the empty lot. What a pathetic creature. He couldn't help but smile into the strained face across from him, though his words came out haltingly, as he tried to spend energy on staying upright rather than speaking. "Do you really think, that you, as Okami Kotaishi, could kill me?" He only needed an advantage. One moment. Two moves. Yes, just two more moves, and the former wolf prince would be down. Speak, then strike. Unsettle him. Stupid, he'd listen and react. "Ready to kill me and be a murderer yourself?"

Move one. Release his hand. As expected, a reverse blow came flying up from beneath him, catching him under the chin and sending his head snapping back as he stumbled, desperately trying to stay upright. This was the hard part. He could feel blood in his mouth; he'd bitten his tongue on impact, and could, through the whirling world, see Kouga running again, face twisted furiously at the words he had just heard.

Move two.

Kouga saw the reeling figure before him duck down as though doubling over, and had brought himself around to compensate, pressing his advantage. It couldn't be this easy. It was much too easy. Something was wrong. And then it was too late to anticipate it. Naraku moved, not down, but to the side, not with a fist, but with an elbow, using the closeness of the oncoming attack to his advantage. He twisted, hands together and using the strength of both arms and the rotation of his hips to drive his blow as hard as he could up into Kouga's stomach.

Air rushed out of his mouth in an awful backwards gasp, a hollow sound accompanying it as blackness began to swim around the hem of his sight, sparkling in the darkness between the light of the streetlamps. He couldn't breathe, the wind being crushed out of his lungs at the unexpected blow. The concept he was falling barely registered as instead he tried to breathe, to get some air back into him, to do something other than collapse to the ground in a heap, unable to see anything other than the black shoes standing in front of his face, then kicking him, again in the chest, adding another bruise to his ribs and increasing the pain. The kick turned him halfway over, just able to see something sliding into Naraku's hand. Something shiny in the lamplight. A switchblade.

He groaned, and closed his eyes. Why did the air sting so badly? Smelled bad too. He only wanted to breathe...

There was noise coming from ahead, and Kagura wished, for the hundredth time that evening, that she was in better shape. Knowing she was going into a battle zone made her decide on sturdy, lace up running shoes instead of sandals, but it really didn't feel like it mattered much. She knew where Higurashi Jinja was. She'd shown up just five minutes ago, and there was nobody there. Hell of a stairclimbing workout those steps were, running up and looking around for Kouga, or Sango, or hell, anyone. Nobody. Everything looked perfectly normal at the jinja, the lights were on in the windows and there wasn't a thing that looked abnormal. Annoyed and beginning to wonder if maybe this was some horrible setup, she'd started back down the stairs...just in time to get a good look at a weird treelike thing blotting out some of the lights two streets away. Had she been lower, on the ground, she would never have had the vantage point to see it, but her mind instantly registered the name of the thing.

Kugutsu. Too big, too weird looking, but a kugutsu nonetheless.

So she ran. And ran, and arrived gasping for breath and cursing too many hours reading magazines.

The scene lay before her as a mess. In the center, Sango-sempai was hacking weakly at the remaining limbs of the kugutsu, wobbling amid a deep violet haze, little more than a dark silhouette among the swirling clouds. Miasma. She covered her nose and mouth with a sleeve, feeling her eyes water at the appearance of the old poison. It was pouring over the top of the fence, billowing around her feet even as she stood and looked at what was happening, trying to decide what to do.

There was coughing in the distance, deep throated. Male. Not Sango, then...there were more beyond the curling tendrils of miasma. Sango, in the center, almost down. Where was Kouga?

She looked through the fog, and found two figures. One lay on the ground, the other stood with his back to her, though he was looking downward. Kouga lay curled up, arms around his stomach and gagging in the miasma, as the terrifyingly familiar curve of Shoukon's face grinned maniacally down at him, a knife in his hand.

Shoukon was Naraku.

Her hand, already covering her mouth, shook.

Shoukon was Naraku.

And he was talking. Calmly. Unaffected. Knife raising in slow preparation to strike.

"Shall I cut out your heart and crush it in front of you? I'm sure that sweet Kagura would just love to find out you died just like she was always afraid of..."

Shoukon was Naraku. Shoukon was Naraku.

_See you after school, Wind User._

At the moment it was said, it didn't seem like much. He'd said so many hateful things it had passed away even as it was spoken, another stab at her like any other stab. Swept away in the moment, she'd forgotten it.

She'd kill him.

She'd absolutely kill him.

The scream that came tearing out of her throat was heard only a moment too late, and instead of a set of perfectly manicured nails gouging his eyes out, they sunk into the flesh of his half turned cheek. She ripped downward, feeling his blood flow stickily beneath her fingers as he cried out in alarm and pain, swinging around and slashing out with the blade in his hand as he automatically backed away from the attack.

The knife met the soft skin of her side, tearing through the cloth of her shirt and slipping across her skin in an uneven arc. Naraku was faster in the recovery, and as Kagura placed a hand instinctively to her injury, he rushed her, plowing her down as hard as he could and sending her sprawling across the dirt, miasma rushing upward at the disturbance. Scrambling, she tried to roll aside, feeling the thin wood of her fan jab her in the ribs, just above the cut. She could see blood on her hand, now grimy with the weedy soil of the ground. Move, move, she kept trying to move, then felt a sharp kick to her side, right where she was bleeding, visible under the bottom edge of the leather jacket she wore.

"Think you're trying to be a hero? Never mind your heart, bitch, I'll just slice your goddamed throat..."

Curled on her side, blood oozing into the ground, she gagged as miasma filled her mouth and nose, but more from the fact that Naraku was bending over her and he had a knife raised and was bringing it down, leaning over her with that nasty, nasty satisfied smirk of his, the look Shoukon always got when he thought he was winning, and she'd never lost to him before so there was no way in hell she was going to die like this, never.

Her fist curled around her fan.

The knife came stabbing down.

Open, a pale half moon, with just a little blood running down it. That was what her fan looked like. A stripe of blood. Not her blood. Never hers. Paper tore as the knife impaled the fan, which shut neatly around it, capturing it within its wooden spindles. Both hands on the fan, one on each end, Kagura twisted it, and so unexpected was the appearance of the weapon and the movement, it slipped neatly out of his hands and into hers.

"You bitch!" He lunged after her as she tried to hold it far away from him, scrambling over her to reach the knife, the toy fan twisted all around it, broken and torn up. Dirt and miasma flew up around them as he tried to get both hands on the knife, hoping to pry her thin little fingers off of it and finish the job. If he stopped struggling for control of the knife to just choke her, she'd stab him, and then he'd be in a worse situation. No, he needed the knife. His beautiful switchblade. It had taken him hours of wandering around the surplus store to find one he truly liked. It was tangled up in her hand and her fan, blood being smudged onto it from her fingers.

Kagura struggled against him, trying to wriggle her way free. Her side stung, but she was still breathing. No, he hadn't done more than part the surface of her skin. It would hurt, but she wasn't out. Superficial injury. Everyone else was down...everyone. Surely they'd help her if they weren't...it was only a matter of time before she was simply overpowered. He was stronger than her, and larger than her, and damn he weighed a lot. Jerking her hand back and forth, she was keeping him from getting a good grip on the blade, but again, it would only be a few more seconds before he finally pryed it back. She was hurt, the miasma was beginning to sting, and she was weaker. If she threw away the weapon, he would overpower her in another way. She needed it.

So she did the only thing she could think of.

Sometime during his grasping attempts to get to the knife she was holding over her head, he'd straddled her, and was trying to crawl very inelegantly forward.

She took great pride in seeing his eyes roll up into his head in pain when she rammed her knee into his groin.

There was a strangling sound as he keeled over, flailing as he curled up and she rolled away, fingers tightening onto the hilt of the knife as she brought it screaming downward.

Shoukon was Naraku. She'd kill him.

Never again. Never again. He wasn't going to cut anyone's heart out. Never again.

"Kagura!"

The weight of Kouga came crashing against her, his hand smacking at her hand and sending it off course, sinking instead into the flesh of his shoulder instead of his chest.

Dead, dead, she'd kill him...

Someone was screaming in her ear. "Do you want to be a murderer?"

...she'd kill him...

Her hand was poised, up again and aimed at his throat. Wide eyes were looking at her, partly in shock, partly in fear, partly in pain. The cocky, satisfied smirk was gone, leaving a terrified teenage boy lying on the ground, his shoulder bleeding, blood soaking through his coat and pooling around him as he sunk in a small sea of his own miasma. Was this pathetic child Naraku? Fearsome to the end? The terror of her life? He was disgusting. A bully named Shoukon lying in the dirt. She hated him. Hated him in this life, and in the last life. Disgusting.

Pathetic.

Another hand was closing around hers, and pulling the knife out of it.

Suddenly aware of the pain in her hip, Kagura began to curl up, arms wrapping around her waist and feeling the wet blood on her left side.

Kouga sagged against her, the knife slipping easily out of numbed fingers. He shoved it into the ground and looked tiredly at the shivering girl he was slumped against. She was pale, pale white, eyes seeming redder than usual against the violet dark of the poison gas. Why was she even here?

At their knees, Naraku was beginning to stir, seeing that the two of them were not moving against him. Kouga turned his head to see him, trying to slither away from them somehow. Whatever he was starting to plot would end. Now.

Gathering himself together and telling himself this was the end, he pulled himself to his knees, made a fist, and found the strength to strike Naraku straight across the jaw, sending him flopping back down to the ground, unconscious.

With that, a breath of fresh night air sighed across the empty lot, and the miasma began to rise.

All fighters lay on the ground, either on their knees or their bellies, heads weakly lifting with the clearing of the toxic gas. There was a cough. Then another. Dogs barked in the distance, and in the far corner of the dirty, empty lot, the broken bit of wooden fence shifted, then lifted as it was kicked off, revealing Shippou as he struggled to his feet. He saw Miroku on all fours just a stride away from him, coughing hard, and he saw Sango, on her knees, pick up hiraikotsu and swing it one last time, straight through the center of the silent kugutsu. There was a cracking noise of the little wooden puppet inside breaking in two.

"Miroku?" Unsteadily, the kitsune stumbled over towards his friend, and tugged on his arm. "We have to get out of here...get up...keep breathing. But you have to get up..."

He looked again to Sango, who was trying to pull herself to her feet using hiraikotsu as leverage. It was far too late to give warning. Right now, they had to get out of there. This wasn't the sengoku jidai woods. People would hear. People would call the cops. And this wasn't something anyone could possibly explain. They had to run. He could tell them later where the miasma came from. He wheeled around and began to find his footing on the uneven surface.

Kouga was panting, shoulders heaving as he took in the clear air, hands on the ground but sitting upright, the still form of Naraku just before him. Kagura, though, was fumbling around the ground beside her, picking up a badly damaged bit of paper and wood. Her face contorted into a strange expression then, one of mournful loss. She tucked it quickly away into her pocket, and he determined to find out what he had not seen earlier, buried under a tangle of earthen kugutsu arms and wooden fence.

It was either Kouga or Kagura, or even both, who had stopped him. He looked at Sango. She'd been right, then, about Kagura, if nothing else. She'd come. Kouga wasn't trying to fight with her. Not an enemy. She'd come and she fought on their side, judging by the look of her. Amazing.

"We have to go..." he said more loudly, trying to get everyone's attention. Somewhere in the area were the sound of sirens, too far just yet for human ears, but he could hear them. "We can't stay here..." heads lifted and turned apathetically towards him. "Do any of you want to explain this to the cops or what?" he demanded, and a little understanding began to color their faces as they examined the area. Weariness and injury were warring with the need to escape, and fortunately, escape was winning. Miroku and Sango were battered but unhurt. Kouga had clearly been beaten down to the ground, dirt all over him. Kagura was bleeding.

Naraku was lying on the ground. His stomach turned over. He'd ask what happened later and relish the fact the man was defeated, and Kagome was safe. Right now, he knew he had the unfortunate task of having to work under this era's rules.

He had to take the bleeding, beaten Naraku to the hospital.

Ew.

Nobody else could do it. Sango and Miroku would have enough trouble getting away on their own. Kouga and Kagura would have enough trouble getting away on their own. He was healing much more rapidly than they were. His lungs still burned from breathing the toxins, but they would stop aching much sooner for him than they would for the humans. Miroku was on his feet. Sango was standing. Kouga was pushing himself upward, eyes not leaving the prone form just before him.

"We'll meet later tonight," he told them, knowing he had everyone's attention. "I'll call. Split up. Go home. Get yourselves cleaned up."

He began patting at his vest for a leaf. This was so disgusting. But there would be too many questions if the dead body of this guy came floating around somewhere in the morning. He wasn't going to hurt Kagome now. He couldn't, physically. Tomorrow morning, Kagome would go through the well, and everything would be as it was supposed to be. Naraku might wake up, and he might talk, but who would believe him? They were safe, at least for now.

An old maple leaf appeared in his hands, just as the wail of sirens began to rise into the distance, and the faces of the four humans turned towards the sound. Each blinked in surprise when they turned back to see a puff of blue green smoke lift their unconscious enemy up. As it cleared, it revealed a medical stretcher on wheels. Miroku, reaching out to Sango, couldn't help but laugh at the image. It was all so ludicrous.

"Your house is nearer...shall we?" he asked, limping around the squishy ground. He'd been struck from behind when he fell, and his back was sore already. Sango looked wearily at him, and began to use hiraikotsu as a crutch, though ended up dragging it instead. They looked at Kouga, who was now standing, looking troubled.

Kagura was trying to pull herself up, one hand out for balance, one tightly grasping her side as she stumbled forward and away from them, eyes locked on the exit.

"Kagura, you're bleeding."

She snorted, straightening herself out as best she could and then wincing, flinching almost back into a crouch. Determined, she started to walk away again. "A scratch. A scratch..." she chuckled grimly, the laugh rising almost hysterically on the last note. "Though tomorrow I will not be a grave man..." She seemed to be quoting something, which only puzzled him, though her faltering walk finally made him move.

He grabbed her free arm and put it around his neck, dragging her upright, taking some of her weight. "Come on. You live a few blocks from here. I'll take you."

"Let go! I can walk just fine-" she started, only to be jerked along by Kouga, who was now intent on getting out of there. He wasn't sure why she was there, or why she'd done what she had, but he saw the look in Naraku's eyes and knew that if she hadn't arrived screaming like a banshee when she did, he would be dead right now. "Why the hell are you doing this?"

Annoyed, he glared down at her as he increased the pace, sirens reminding him they probably had less than a minute before being seen. They could fight later. "Because it pisses you off! Stop bitching and walk, dammit!"

That earned him a stunned look, and he started walking again, this time with her too speechless to argue.

Shippou turned to look at Sango and Miroku, neither of them injured to the point of having difficulty moving, but apparently Miroku liked the idea enough to imitate Kouga, and slipped an arm around Sango's shoulders with a helpful smile. She gave him a droll look, but didn't say anything. So it was with great relief the two of them split off in the opposite direction as the two former youkai. Shippou, for his part, placed his hands on the edge of the makeshift, magical stretcher, transformed himself out of his regular appearance and into a human one, and began to run, the sound of spinning wheels clattering around him.

He ducked into the shadows across the street just as the first patrol car rounded the corner, in response to a call about a very noisy disturbance behind their house. Someone had apparently been horsing around and broke their fence.

In the shadows, Shippou kept running, breathing in the fresh night air and finding that the stink of the miasma dissipated quickly, though the queasy feeling in his stomach would last awhile longer. He wanted to get this over with.

He looked down, and upside down on the magically made stretcher, Shoukon smiled a lurid little smile, a twisted frown from where Shippou stood, leaning over him. He already felt ill from the effects of the miasma, but to see that smile was far worse. "Idiots. You're all idiots."

Shippou grimaced, wishing he could smother the bastard with the pillow his head was resting on. He'd lost, and now he was going to try mocking them? Stupid bastard. "Smart enough to take you down again."

"Yeah," he rasped, mouth gaping as he sucked in some air and made straining sounds. The smile didn't fade. "Naraku, though...is better than me."

The sound of the rattling wheels on the pavement stilled as Shippou stopped walking, a feeling of cold settling like a rock in his stomach. There was something off about this; not just what Shoukon was saying, but the feel of it. All was complete. But there was something so simple about it all. He began to run again, the wheels clattering over the sidewalk with a great racket. Another couple blocks to the hospital.

Not easy...no, the fight had not been easy...but therein lay its deception. Naraku was always clever. If he wanted to trick them, then he would need a plan as clever as Shippou remembered him using five hundred years ago. Say, a decoy. Say, a decoy who looked like him, talked like him...was him, once. Onigumo. This was not Naraku, this was Onigumo. An old trick, used by tricksters and magicians for thousands of years. Sleight of hand. Make sure the audience looks at one place while the real action is occuring in another. With limited power to make kugutsu, what was the next best option?

Naraku was a consciousness, a soul, a leech, a parasite. Who was the one he would most likely try to assimilate? He was a shapeshifter, uncaring of what form he wore. Who, then, would he try to claim as a new host? He skidded to a stop just outside of the sliding sensor-rigged glass doors to the hospital. An ambulance was parked outside; another patient had been brought in recently. Yellow light spilled through the windows, and he could see doctors inside. It was a good situation, for him. The paramedics would be heading back to their vehicle in a minute. Onigumo could last until then. When they returned, there he'd be, ready and waiting to be picked up. And what would he say to the doctors about what happened? Even if he told the truth, he'd be assumed to be crazed from the trauma. Delirious. Nobody'd believe him.

Exactly as it should be.

There was only one person Shippou could think of who could carry the soul of that monster. Leaving the stretcher before the doors, he turned and ran.

He just hoped that this time, he wasn't going to be too late.

* * *

Um, please don't kill me?  
Til next time.  
~Queen


	12. The Verisimilitude of Kanna

_Good Karma_

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_The pure are soiled, and the soiled are purified_  
_What is good is evil, and what is evil is good_  
_To live is to die, and to die is to live_  
_The power lies deep within the purifying, Mt. Hakurei_  
_-Local Song Sung Around Mt. Hakurei in Inuyasha Anime_

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_Chapter 11- The Verisimilitude of Kanna_

Their steps sounded empty on the wooden stairs, and had any neighbors poked curious heads out their apartment doors to look into the hallway, they probably would have thought they were looking at a pair of filthy, drunken teenagers, careening around towards home. Kagura had, after the first few minutes of stumbling along, given up arguing with Kouga, who seemed to want to simply ignore her protests at being hauled home in such an awkward manner. Now, it was only their heavy steps that made them noisy, since neither seemed to be able to decide whether they should try walking together, or to drop the other and run.

Nobody cared to look outside their doors, so they remained unseen as Kagura steered them around corners and up the flight of stairs to the second floor of her apartment building. Coming to the end of the hallway, they pulled to an unceremonious stop, and Kagura began to fumble for the keys she put in her pocket before running out the door with her free hand. Hopefully they hadn't fallen out during the fight. Her hand brushed past the broken bits of paper fan, and she bit her lip, finally finding the rough edge of her metal key instead. She shoved it into the door, and it swung open with a whoosh, allowing the two of them to step inside.

"I'm home..." she announced, receiving no reply. The apartment was darker than she had left it, now that the sun was fully gone and there were no lamps on inside. "Onee-chan?" she called, knowing there would be no response. "Kagami-oneechan?"

"There's no one here," Kouga told her stiffly as she finally managed to pull away from him, setting her keys down onto the top of a bookcase and looking momentarily in one of the little mirrors. There was a smudge of dirt across her face, and she looked white from fear and exertion. Her hairband was half out of her hair, and the white feather was sitting limply on her shoulder instead of trailing around her cheek like it should have been. Kouga didn't look any better. There was dirt and a bit of blood smeared over one side of his face, where he had hit the ground, and there was still a brownish weed sticking out of his short black hair. It was almost comical, and would have been if both of them didn't feel about as awful as they looked.

"I can see that," she said in return, then started to head to the bathroom, pausing pointedly before turning the corner. "I'm home now."

_You can go, _was what she meant as she went through the doorway and disappeared. He frowned, running a hand through his hair and encountering the prickly weed lodged there, pulling it out. Not knowing what else to do, he set it down next to Kagura's house keys and sighed.

In the bathroom, Kagura hissed as she bent down to reach some of the washcloths under the sink, beginning to brace herself for the time she was going to have cleaning herself up without onee-chan's help. Her wincing made her straighten again. Big stupid baby, she chided herself. Almost killed, and now making a fuss over getting a stupid washcloth and soap. Her hands gripped the counter, hard, looking at her reflection in the cabinet mirror, the vanity lights turned on and bringing out all the red brightness of blood on her clothes.

She heard the front door close from where she stood, and lowered her head, looking away from the image of herself in the mirror. She wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or cry or scream or what. Maybe all at once, who knew? She was hurt, and tired, and dirty, and she'd almost killed Shoukon tonight, and would have if Kouga hadn't gotten off his ass at the last moment to stop her. Was that really such a good thing? He was better off dead. Would probably try again to do...whatever. Maybe Sango would tell her in school. Or maybe she'd even call later with the information like that kitsune at the battlefield said. She'd beaten him. Almost killed him. He'd been afraid of her. Her! It was justice, from such a long time ago. Revenge. And it was damn scary, doing things like that as both Kuraino Mai and Kagura, not just as Kagura.

"You look like hell."

Her head snapped up at that, and she spun so quickly she flinched as her cut opened again, causing her eyes to water in pain. He was still here? Why was he still here? Dammit, now she really looked like she was crying, and he shouldn't see something like that. Not him. It would hurt more if he thought she was anything but invincible, now. She'd almost killed a man tonight. Not a good man, but a man still, and if he hadn't moved to stop her, she would have. Having Kouga look at her with pity was just too much. It made her want to cry more. Instead, she bristled.

"I thought you were going to leave- Kouga, what the hell are you doing?" she demanded as he walked in, abruptly turned her halfway around, put his hands under her shoulders and boosted her up onto the counter with her squawk of protest.

"Sit still and be quiet for once." He looked around the room in confusion, then vainly began pulling at drawers and cabinets. "Where do you keep your bandages or band-aids or whatever you have?"

He was going to help her? She blinked at him in shock a few times before managing to point at the cabinet behind her, scooting to the side to let him reach, pulling out a box of gauze and medicinal tape. He didn't look at her during this time, busying himself with looking for first aid items, and digging out a washcloth and betadine cleanser for the cut. So she sat there, watching him turn on the faucet and pour hot water on the cloth, and then flushed and determinedly looked away when he started prying at her shirt to get to the wound itself.

"Take your jacket off."

Still not looking at her. Kagura bit her lip and began to shrug herself out of the leather jacket, hearing the sound of the paper and wooden bits still rustling in her pocket. Her poor, poor, beautiful fan. Her poor, ruined fan. There was probably no way in the world to salvage it. Maybe she could find a box for it or something. The fan that saved her life tonight. Silly little toy fan from a festival when she was a little girl. She gasped as Kouga peeled the edge of her tank top upward, revealing the messy line of the wound. It wasn't deep or wide, but enough so that it bled, though it was clotting now and sticky. She hugged her jacket to her for a moment, then dropped it carefully aside, hissing again when the warm, clean wet washcloth in his hand contacted her skin.

"Hold it there. I should have taken you to the hospital for stitches."

Kagura snorted in disgust. "So I could share the emergency room with that bastard? Screw that."

Finally, he looked at her, and she edged backward a little, back bumping into the mirror behind her. His expression was so strange. Not the look of anger or hate she'd seen the last couple days, or even the playful, half mocking one from before either of them had learned who they had been, who they were now. It was a tired look, and a little sad, somehow. Disconcerted, she took the washcloth from him and held it there herself, letting him rummage through the boxes of gauze. "You really do hate him, don't you?"

The words were so quiet she almost thought she hadn't heard him speaking. But she did hear them, and replied with equal quiet. "Yes."

"Then _why?_"

She had been leaning against the counter for support earlier, and now it was his turn, hands gripping the white surface of the sink, though looking up at her as though to convince her to answer. There was a pleading in his face, and it scared her. Why? Why anything? Why in her last life was she born...detached...from a monster? What was he asking? Everything? Why to what? Why did she use her wind to kill so many of his people, greedy with hearing the rumor of those horrible shikon shards? They didn't have to come. It was their choice. Why to what? Why did she come tonight? Why shouldn't she? Naraku was her enemy, even more than his. She had at least as much claim on his life as any of them had, probably more.

At her prolonged silence, he looked away, closing his blue eyes and hanging his head.

"He said something about cutting out my heart like you were always afraid of. What does that mean, Kagura?"

She looked at the wall, and struggled to stay silent. Don't say anything. Don't cry. Don't you dare cry! It didn't matter, in the end. Mai was Kagura, Kagura was Mai. Even if she told him the answer to that question, it didn't change the fact that she had not been so kindly informed of her situation in life until after the trap for Inuyasha, and so many wolves were killed. He wouldn't forgive her for that. He hadn't then, he wouldn't now. Nothing would change. She knew she couldn't let go of that kind of anger if their positions were reversed. It wasn't fair to even ask that of him.

Don't cry. Don't let your voice break, or crack, or shatter. You can scream later. When it's quiet and this was over. "You should go."

His fist pounded down onto the counter beside her and she jumped at the suddenness of it, and his voice rose again. "Shippou and Miroku and Sango...they told me what happened to them before, but you...you make no fucking sense! Why? Why are you switching sides? What the hell did he do to you?"

"I was never on his side!"

"That's sure as hell not what I remember!"

Kagura practically snarled at him, wishing she could crawl back and away, but he was pressing forward now, and there was no space between herself, the counter, and the wall. Literally cornered. Damn him anyway. It was going to be his problem, not hers. Her voice rose and she shouted into his face. "Do you really want to know, Kouga? Do you really? Do you want to know how Naraku had two jars in his room, in that old castle? Do you want to know that in one of those jars was my heart, and whenever he damn well felt like it, he could just crush it and I'd be dead?" The words just got louder and faster as they came out, and she covered her face for a moment, trying to calm down. She was shaking. Don't break. Stop it. Don't cry in front of him, don't be weak, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry...

She dropped the washcloth back into the sink and squeezed her eyes shut and tightened her fingers in her hair, feeling her loosened headband slip off her head and down behind her. "Don't...don't get the wrong idea," she told him, hoping to make her voice sound as controlled as she could. Instead, it sounded dead. "I would have done the same thing at that point regardless. Just go. Please just go."

Waiting for the sound of his receding footsteps, she kept her hands over her face. Looking up and away from the darkness provided by her closed eyes would hurt too much. She should have kept her mouth shut. It didn't even matter anymore what she looked like. She'd asked him to leave, sounding like that. How pathetic she must seem.

Then Kouga started to speak. "I was trying to remember...what it was like...before. I wanted to know everyone who died when we first met that day, you know?" He made a sound almost like a laugh, but it was far too strangled. Slowly, irresistibly, she opened her eyes and looked through the cracks between her fingers to see him still standing beside her. "It's kind of funny, actually, how fast the memories come back when you really start getting them. I remember how much things changed after I decided I was in love with Kagome. I figured she'd probably hate my guts if I kept letting my wolves go around attacking villages and shit like that. Only reason it stopped then. Didn't even think twice about it before. Just...natural. Hunting. Humans. Now I am one. Shit...I could have been an enemy of the others too. What the hell kind of leader was I?"

Kagura looked at the floor, seeing the little carpet onee-chan had put there to cover some of the tiles. Kouga was looking in the mirror, as though maybe it might answer him. Part of her wanted to put out a hand and rest it on his shoulder, and tell him at least he stopped. But she didn't dare touch him. He'd changed because he wanted to, and he had the freedom to do so. He picked his side, and it was different from hers. Things change like that. Even if those others he mentioned along with Sango didn't know or remember what he had just told her yet, they would always see Kouga as an ally first, not an enemy. He'd have to live with that now, just like she had to live with knowledge of her own past.

"I guess we were both pretty shitty people then."

He turned his head and looked at her, meeting her gaze. Steady, even, there wasn't any blame or revulsion there at all. She would have said something if it suddenly disgusted her. Kagura just accepted it, and was dealing with it, demonstrated by her comment. She'd done enough things herself to not be able to lay blame on him. It was something he just wanted to bury and not talk about. Somehow, though, it didn't matter telling her.

Kagura closed her eyes, and the movement brought him back to reality. They were not the vivid, vermillion hue he knew they had been hundreds of years ago, but instead a human brown, though still slightly tinted in a cherry's colors. Cherries. Strange. At first soft and sweet, they had hard little hearts inside.

He looked down at the splay of soap and ointment and bandaging he'd pulled out earlier, then at Kagura again, who had the most unusual soft expression.

"I should have taken you to the hospital for stitches..." he mumbled as he picked up the gauze.

Quietly, Kagura smiled.

* * *

There was a very nervous young woman standing in the doorway to the home of a girl named Ryoushi Senrei. She had a piece of computer paper in her hand, with several names on it, with lines drawn matching one to another. The top two belonged to a girl named Senrei, with a line firmly drawn to the name listed and circled as Sango. The second one belonged to a boy a not quite a year younger than she herself was, named Chinsei, with a line drawn across the scrap of paper to the name listed as Kohaku, a question mark scribbled beside it.

Hesitating was a bad idea. She knew it was a bad idea, because there wasn't much time. Sesshoumaru-sama had been very...displeased...when she'd insisted on going to find Sango and Kohaku. Had it been over anything else, she would have quailed, and quickly apologized, agreeing that it was a bad idea to involve anyone else in what was probably beginning right now. It had taken a great deal of information gathering on her part, but Rin felt with absolute conviction that it was worth it, so much so that she'd go against what Sesshoumaru-sama wanted. It was a thin hope, that siblings would be reincarnated together again. Or maybe not so much, since they were related, connected once before.

Her hand was shaking, from hope, anticipation, and fear she was wrong. But, taking a deep breath and steeling herself, she reached out and rang the doorbell. What if one of their parents opened the door instead? She'd been running around all day...suddenly self conscious, she began patting at her hair and smoothing her rumpled jeans and black jacket, hoping to make a better impression. What should she say? Would anyone even recognize her? Hello, I know you don't remember me, my name is Rin, and...no, no, no, that was too...weird. Hi! I'm Rin! Do you remember me? Ugh, no, way too childish, she wasn't seven anymore. How in the world was she supposed to explain herself?

There was the sound of locks being unlocked from within, and she snapped to attention, the paper crumpling up into a ball in her hand as she froze, the yellow light from beyond the door slowly spilling onto the porch to reveal her.

"Can I help you?" Chinsei asked, seeing the wide eyed young woman standing completely still on the front porch and not moving a muscle. When she continued to stand there, soundlessly, he looked at her more carefully, wondering if maybe her car broke down or something outside. "Do you need some-"

He was interrupted by a shriek. "Kohaku!"

A very startled Chinsei suddenly found his arms full of laughing, sobbing, jumping up and down, hyperactive girl he did not know. Her black hair was just under his chin, bouncing around with the rest of her, and he stumbled backward in surprise at her suddenly launching herself at him and talking a river of words that were babbling by so fast he couldn't make many of them out. "I looked...didn't know...giggle, sob, sniffle...so happy!" Laugh, sniffle, sniffle. She pried herself off of him and beamed up into his stunned, utterly bewildered face, grasping the front of his shirt with tears welling up in her eyes.

What...in the world...was going on? He almost hated to have to say it, but there really wasn't anything else for him to say to her. She obviously had made some really horrible mistake...and now he had to ask: "Who are you?"

The fallen look on her face when hearing that practically broke his heart. The huge, delighted smile faltered, struggled back for a moment, then died as she looked down. She didn't release him though, and instead, slowly tightened her grip on the collar of his shirt, looking back up at him with firm resolution in her eyes. "It's okay, Kohaku. I'll help you remember then. It's probably better this way anyway!" The sunny smile burst right back onto her face, and Chinsei tried very hard not to smile back, although extremely confused. The girl was contagious or something. Obviously horribly mistaken, but contagious.

He shook his head, trying to get his bearings again. When did random girls suddenly start throwing themselves at him? This was weird. He tried pushing her away...she kept calling him Kohaku...did he look like Kohaku? He wasn't Kohaku, he was Chinsei. Was Kohaku her boyfriend or something? Why would she mistake him then? This really was weird. Random cute girl arrives on doorstep almost in the middle of the night, then throws herself at him calling him another name. Yeesh, this sounded like something out of a movie.

"My name is Chinsei...not Kohaku..." he trailed a little awkwardly, trying to convince her to let go. "I think you have the wrong guy..."

"Oh no!" she shook her head vehemently, finally releasing her death grip. She began to fiddle with a piece of crumbled paper in her hand, pulling it open and trying to flatten it back out. "No, no, you definitely are! I'd know you anywhere! You're Ryoushi Chinsei on the paper, and Sango is your younger sister now instead. I thought that was so funny, the ages getting switched around and all, but it works out okay! I'm a few months older than everyone else this time around, which is really weird because last time I was so little and even you were a lot bigger than me..." she was now blushing bright pink, and he wondered if maybe she realized how bizarre this must sound to him. Because it was bizarre. Last time? Ages? Instead? And what did his sister have to do with anything?

"Who are you?" he asked again, this time sounding more exasperated, half nervously laughing at the utter insanity of what was happening, and half at the stream of words still chattering wildly out of her mouth.

"Oh! Sorry! I forgot you forgot!" she clapped her hands together, bowing rapidly in apology. "I'm Rin! I was Rin then, too, but Sesshoumaru-sama just named me Rin again, so I'm still Rin." The words came out in one big breath. "Taisho Rin!" Chinsei blinked, stunned. Rin just laughed. "Sorry! Am I talking too much again? Sesshoumaru-sama says I talk too much, but you always used to say I didn't, so I didn't think you'd mind."

She was smiling up at him expectantly, hands clasped together. He kept looking at her, trying to figure out who she was, and what was going on, and why he kept wanting to laugh along with her, even though he had no clue as to why. Contagious. Very, very contagious. "No..." he managed after a moment. "No, you don't talk too much...just...I don't know what you mean...uh...did your car break down or something? Do you need help?"

Rin giggled up at him sweetly. He was so cute. Asking if she needed help. Kohaku being gallant...wait, that was what she came for, wasn't it? Drat. But she found him, finally, finally. Lots of other things might matter at the moment, but even if it took him longer to remember, it was okay. She could understand why he would want to subconsciously block out the happenings of the sengoku jidai more than most of the others. Still, there were lots of good things too. She almost wanted to pout over it, him not remembering her. Or Sango, even! Mou...but it was still okay. Unfortunately, he did remind her why she actually did come. She really should get down to business. She blinked suddenly. Why did her feet feel so heavy?

Looking down, Rin saw a cream colored cat sitting on her feet, gazing up at her, head cocked to the side as it mewed up at her. "What a cute cat!" she exclaimed, bending down to pick her up.

"Oh! Wait, you don't want to...she doesn't like...strangers..." he broke off as Rin hugged the elderly cat to her, letting it purr happily away in her arms.

"She looks just like Kirara!" Rin announced blissfully, burying her face in the cat's fur for a moment before rubbing under her chin. "Only one tail though. And green eyes...normal cat. A sweet one though! Don't tell me you named her Kirara, too?"

Chinsei stuttered. "Uh...Mica..." Who in the world was this woman who just burst into his house?

"Mica...that's close enough!" she said cheerfully, petting Mica one last time before setting her down. "I'm sorry, I know this must sound really strange if you don't remember anything yet..."

Whatever it was she kept talking about remembering, he was starting to want to. Even if it just meant some of this would make sense. What was going on? Rin's seemingly endless smile was starting to tone down just slightly, almost as though she had to keep reminding herself of something unpleasant to keep from sunnily beaming at him.

"To be honest, I really came looking for Sango," Rin began, almost sheepishly. "Is she here? It's really important, and I've been standing around too much already...Sesshoumaru-sama's going to get really mad at me for being here anyway. It's important I see her right away."

"Sango?" Chinsei repeated. Sango. Sango. Senrei. She meant Senrei. Senrei was Sango? Who was Sango? _Aneue_? He shook his head as though to clear it. No, he was the older one, right? His head was starting to hurt from all this, little black jabs of pain in the back of his mind. Something was wrong. What was going on? "Sango...Senrei...she's out...with..."

"Miroku-sama? Oh..." Rin looked crestfallen for a moment, and she frowned thoughtfully, a finger tapping her chin. Miroku-sama? Miroku...Miroku...she meant Haiboku-kun. From school. From literature class. Why did he know what she was talking about? Those weren't their names. His sister was Senrei. Sango. Rin was Rin, with pretty black hair that always flipped around her shoulders and was so kind all the time. She talked so she wouldn't get scared. That was why she talked so much. So she wouldn't be scared...

"Kohaku?" Rin's voice was alarmed, and he nearly pulled away when she touched his arm as she said his name, looking worriedly up into his face. "Kohaku, what's wrong?"

He was supposed to watch her. That was what he was supposed to do. Not right now though. A long time ago. Had they met before? When? Who was she? Why did he suddenly expect her to offer him a slice of melon while she chattered away, looking so worried?

A little, hopeful smile was tugging on her face again. "You remember me, don't you? A little bit?"

"Have we...met?"

The little smile turned into a large one again and she nodded happily. "Oh yes! A really long time ago, though!"

"Kohaku?"

"You were Kohaku. You are Kohaku. So yes."

He still didn't understand everything. Actually, he got the feeling his confusion was just beginning. And another person who he wanted to ask about it right at that moment was now trudging up the porch steps behind Rin, looking more than a little worse for wear, and carrying what appeared to be an extremely oversized...boomerang?

"Senrei...what happened to you? And what are you carrying?"

Sango looked up, seeing Chinsei and a girl she didn't recognize standing in the foyer, with the front door wide open. Mica leapt out the front door during the momentary pause, and darted into the bushes with a rustle, surprising Miroku as he hurried up along the sidewalk behind Sango. "Oh...nii-chan...hi...um...I'm home?" She moved as though she were going to try to hide hiraikotsu behind her, but seeing the weapon was larger than she was, it was very ineffective.

"You have hiraikotsu!" Rin exclaimed in delight, rushing out the door and onto the porch to give Sango a hand. "And it's in such good condition! How in the world did you get it back? It must be an antique by now!"

If either Sango or Miroku were alarmed at being found sneaking into the house late at night, they were much more alarmed by the fact the unidentified girl just perfectly identified what it was that Sango was carrying. Which meant, seeing that she appeared to be human, she was probably also an incarnate, and one who knew who and what she was. And she was also saying all this in front of Kohaku, who was still clueless.

While Sango looked between the girl on the porch and Kohaku, who was standing open mouthed in the doorway, Miroku coughed politely and stepped up, putting on his most winning smile. "You have us at a disadvantage, miss. Would you..."

"No."

Miroku blinked, since the girl was grinning delightedly, as though this were some old game they had played before. "I didn't even ask anything..."

The girl laughed, covering her mouth with her hands politely before she elaborated. "Sorry. No, I will not bear your child." Miroku's mouth dropped open, Sango guffawed, and Kohaku looked like he just swallowed something really sour. Then he turned red. The girl giggled again, hands falling to her sides. "Ah, you must not do that anymore, then...if I remember right, you used to ask every girl that..." she looked at Sango and winked. Chinsei, having stepped onto the porch and seeing the look, wheeled, accusing, on Miroku.

"Haiboku-kun!"

Miroku put up his hands and waved them back and forth in denial. "No, you misunderstand...I was serious when I asked her, I swear!"

"What!"

"Nii-chan..." Sango interrupted, quickly stepping forward between them before Chinsei started really raising his voice, and this mix up got any further. She looked at the girl who had caused the bit of mischief, who was now looking a little embarrassed.

"Sorry, I didn't realize anyone was going to fight over it...it was just an old joke..." she scratched the back of her head. "I didn't mean anything by it. Really." She bowed, hands pressed together for forgiveness.

"Uh...Rin..." Chinsei began awkwardly, half wanting to demand an explanation over what in the world was going on, and why Haiboku...Miroku...whatever his name was...was into asking 'every girl' to bear his children. That was certainly new. "Rin, stand up...it's okay...Haiboku-kun, what is going on?"

Sango and Miroku looked at each other, then reluctantly at Chinsei, who was growing increasingly frustrated. To their surprise, it was the girl he addressed as Rin who spoke up, first to Chinsei, then to the two of them. "There's a battle going on. We have to go."

"Battle?"

Shaking her head, Sango managed a smile. "Not anymore. Battle's over." She tapped hiraikotsu against the wooden steps of the porch meaningfully. "He's probably at the hospital right now."

Rin tilted her head to the side, frowning. "No, that can't be right. Sesshoumaru-sama seemed pretty sure of who he had to find. Naraku's hiding in a woman's body. I don't know who you were fighting, but it wasn't him."

"Not..." Miroku began, looking at the girl in shock. There was nothing in her demeanor that made him think she might be lying. Seriousness did not seem to fit naturally to her, but she seemed almost grim at the news she was bringing. "Then Kagome-sama..."

"I spent some time looking for you guys. I'm glad both you and Sango are together right now, it makes things easier." She pointed at herself and gave them a small smile in greeting. "I'm Rin. Taisho Rin, now. I don't know if either of you remember me or not yet," she glanced quickly at Chinsei, lowering her eyes and blushing lightly, "but I was there too, before. I was with Sesshoumaru-sama and Jaken-sama..."

"Inuyasha's brother? The full youkai?"

Rin nodded. "Yes. Kanna-san contacted him about Naraku. I don't know if she knew about any of you...or exactly what she felt she was capable of doing. Or what you guys were capable of in this time." She looked between them, seeing the damage they'd taken earlier in the night. "But we really should go..." she turned back to Chinsei, who was watching the conversation with bewildered fascination. "I'll come back, I promise, Kohaku, okay?" she told him hopefully. "It really is an emergency...I'd explain now...but..."

"I believe you...if it is an emergency..." eyes troubled, he looked between Rin and Sango, wishing he knew what they meant. Battles. Emergencies. Youkai? Did he even want to know? Part of him ran cold at the sheer thought of it. "Go. Go!"

The three who remembered looked between themselves, then at Kohaku, standing shadowed in the open doorway and telling them to leave. Miroku was the first to turn, quickly going for the keys to his car. Sango and Rin hesitated, exchanging one more look before turning and running back to the street and towards Miroku.

Maybe it didn't all feel clear yet. Maybe Kohaku would be better off not knowing. Either way, they had to act, and now there were more pressing matters. Kohaku and what he did or did not remember would not matter if the past was altered anyway. They had to find time to explain, and that time was not now. So they ran.

* * *

Soft, a footfall sounded against the first of the stone steps leading up the Higurashi jinja. It was followed by another, a small, quiet, staccato repetition of sound, carrying a slight figure higher in the dim light provided by a translucently clouded cheshire moon. In the silence, the youkai once known as Kanna was walking, steadily, unhurriedly climbing the steps to the jinja with calm care, pale white hair falling over her shoulders and reflecting the light of the moon as much as the antique mirror in her small hands did.

One hand rested lightly, possessively, on the top, and the other supported the curling, intricate bronze mirrorframe on the bottom, holding it to her with familiar grace. Nothing reflected there, save the light on its glassy surface, contradicting the blackness that lay resting within. An old mirror, polished to brightness for the hands of a master of mirrors.

Halfway up the steps, the sound of heeled feet touching the stairs stilled, and she paused, eyes slowly creeping upward over the steps and past the trees that rustled peacefully in the dark night breeze. On the top step stood another figure, forming out of the shadows that clung around the scarlet torii and the leafy trees.

Onto Kanna's face crept the strangest of smiles, an amused little curve filled with disdain. Out of her mouth came also a strange voice, one that was struggling to deepen far lower than the tones of a woman, and not quite managing it, making it scratchy and thick, harsh though attempting to be rich and resounding strangely from the lips of one with eyes so dark they seemed painted on, soulless, like those of a puppet. "So, you were that little secret she's been trying to hide from I, Naraku."

A black trenchcoat was draped over Sesshoumaru's shoulders, and with hearing those words, it was drawn back slightly with the movement of an arm, revealing the long hilts of two old, carefully maintained swords. Lightly, he reached for one of them, pausing carefully in consideration. The mirror was Kanna's weapon. Naraku, though, controlled her. Even as a human, how strong could she be? He had never fought the tiny white youkai detachment so long ago; the warning she had given him at their meeting had been only that. A warning. Naraku was 'as dead as she was.' She wanted to try to save the host he had taken, herself, but was willing to die should no other option present itself. It was better that way.

If a mirror, then most likely a strong defense, by returning anything he attempted to throw at her. But still, her strength was in question.

Such a tedious job, coming out to fight to defend his brother's miko, just to make sure fate fell the way it had, and should. He had briefly considered simply allowing Naraku to do whatever he wished, but decided otherwise. Who knew what repercussions such an action would create? Chaos was something he did not wish to tempt, and so found himself picking up a pair of old swords he had not carried in so many years now, placing them against his hip and traveling across the city silently, unseen by anyone, golden eyes revealed, their true state.

He did have the answer now to one question. By Kanna's behavior, he had inferred there were other reincarnates such as herself. After watching a human girl who looked strikingly like a certain Wind User huff up the steep steps to the jinja, he had his assumption confirmed. She had gone tearing off after the decoy almost immediately upon arriving, and, tired and distracted, had failed to even bother doing more than a cursory glance around the courtyard. Of course, she was looking for a battle, and there was not one there. Yet.

It was fairly intelligent of Naraku to use a decoy, since there were other incarnates running around who may be interested in saving their dear miko friend. Rather stupid of him to have not noticed his host still had enough control over her body to sneak around and make alliances though. Clearly, now that time had ended. The expression on her face was not the tranquil, composed look of Kanna's reincarnate, but of a smug Naraku, laughing at the thought of any opposition. Fool.

One strike from Tenseiga and the bond between Kanna and Naraku would be severed. It was not a sword of this world, of fighting on a physical plane. A sword of healing. Miraculous. Ridiculous. And meant to save people. He almost smiled at the irony of the thought.

One strike. One clear blow. How would Naraku attempt to defend?

A hand twitched towards a sword, and it was unsheathed smoothly, with the whisper of its fang against the wooden sheath.

One swing. From the end of Toukijin, a stream of white light poured out, rushing towards the still smiling form of Naraku.

The shine of the mirror gleamed brightly as it took in the blaze sent out by Toukijin, flashing at the impact as it instantly ricocheted from the surface of the glass. In reaction, Sesshoumaru leapt easily away, towards the line of trees as his own attack came bursting back towards him.

"Kitsune-bi!"

Blue fire erupted up and down the length of the steps, forming a corridor of flickering flames that balled up at the top end, burning at its brightest as the return shot from Kanna's mirror impacted it, spinning frantically as it absorbed and attempted to defend the buildings that stood behind the place Sesshoumaru so swiftly vacated. Landing on his feet and staggering under the strength of the blow, Shippou struggled to maintain the foxfire shield. Why the hell did Goshinki's old fang have to be so damned strong? And when did Sesshoumaru get himself involved in this? Eh, for the time being, who cared? The taiyoukai seemed to be working on his side. He'd have to make him talk a bit later. If it were possible.

As the last of the strands of flame burned away into the air, Shippou wheezed a little, from both running and trying to defend something the size of Kagome's home from an attack that normally would have sent him screaming for cover. Nope, everything needed to look completely normal in the morning, or else Kagome's cat might pick something more destroyed to investigate, not go into the wellhouse, and then Kagome would never go to the sengoku jidai at all. Heh, relying on the random whim of a fat cat. No, everything had to be perfectly normal and unassuming in the morning. Still keeping a wary eye on the figure of Kanna, he pulled out several leaves from the inside of his vest, then tossed them at once into the air, towards the torii. They stopped, floating, then shimmered, a thin, transparent wall of azure haze rising up around them. Another shield. Hopefully nice and soundproof, because if this got noisy...crap. And it was probably going to get noisy. Last thing he wanted was for Kagome or her family to come running out to investigate.

Quickly looking towards the other youkai, he shouted, "Sesshoumaru! Kagome's not supposed to wake up in the morning to find out half her house has been blown up! Try not to destroy everything!"

Had Shippou been in any other situation, he probably would have thought a little harder about the wisdom of shouting orders at Sesshoumaru. Fortunately, all his words earned was an arched eyebrow before Sesshoumaru returned his attention to their opponent. If one of Kagome's old comrades wanted to wise up and attack the real problem, he didn't particularly care, as long as he stayed out of his way.

Naraku had not moved during the attempt to defend Kagome's home, and instead, he was looking with only satisfied appreciation at the mirror he was holding in Kanna's hands. A useful thing, being able to tap into powers far beyond those of a human. Who would have expected that the connection of memory and time and paradox would be enough? Enough to give him strength to see some desperate plan realized. He remembered dying in the past; dying and wasting away into nothingness as the girl who was now just beyond his reach and her friends killed him. A cruelty he would not forgive. How fortunate it was to be able to twine himself around Kanna, who had so little soul of her own, his first experiment in creating detachments? Two jars in his room. A heart to control Kagura. A soul to control Kanna. He needed her ability to see far away, to scry, to be his precious crystal ball. And when she died, eventually, inevitably died, it was easy to latch on to her. Onigumo was loathsome, and would never have any strength beyond that of a mere human's.

Kanna, though...

Around her body was a dome, small and clear and slightly glassy, barely visible though clearer to the youkai eyes that watched it. A barrier of his own, formed with the power Kanna used to deflect anything thrown at her. Looking smugly at Sesshoumaru, Naraku appeared to be tempting him to attack, only to be deflected again or blocked.

However, with the two youkai standing on the steps before the entrance to the shrine, Naraku could not move forward without a great deal of resistance, whether he was able to defend from it or not. Also, he could feel Kanna's pathetic attempts to stab at him. She was succeeding in annoying him at least, constantly whispering in the back of his mind and reminding him of his inevitable defeat. Of this battle's futility. Kagome would go to the past because she already had. His end was destined. Fated. One way or another, he would die there, the last scrap of soul that had taken root in her body. Leech. Parasite. Hanyou.

For a moment, they stood locked in a stalemate.

* * *

A little silver sports car with a very strange looking piece of cargo sticking out of its windows pulled to a halt across the street from Higurashi jinja. The occupants of the car were frantically trying to park, to detach seatbelts, and to find their way around the awkward banana shape of hiraikotsu that had been so carefully wedged into the compact car. A glow of teal colored light from up the street had shown them that the evening's second, more real battle was underway, and they were unfortunately tardy for it. Rin had reassured them several times on the way over that her Sesshoumaru-sama would not let Naraku win, never, that it was silly to think otherwise because Sesshoumaru-sama was invincible, and knew exactly what to do.

Sango and Miroku had been little reassured, and the fact Shippou had apparently found out about the deception and was fighting did nothing to allay their fears. If the inuyoukai was helping Kagome as Rin claimed, Shippou would be unlikely to attack him, unless he suddenly lost his mind. Which meant the blue foxfire glow from up ahead was due to Shippou fighting Naraku. Which most likely meant he was aiding Sesshoumaru. Did that mean Sesshoumaru needed help though? Wasn't he supposed to be powerful? He was Inuyasha's brother...and they knew the relationship between the two was antagonistic at best.

The situation they discovered as Miroku shifted into park seemed to suggest a temporary break in battle, since the fighters seemed to be frozen in place. Across the street and most of the way up the long stairway that led to the grounds of the jinja stood three figures, two with white hair, the one without recognizably their kitsune friend, standing in his natural form beside the taller white haired head Rin immediately cheered as Sesshoumaru.

"That's the woman who I talked to earlier. Kanna." Miroku stated, noticing her long, distinctive white hair, as Sango tried to lean forward, peering over his shoulder to see through the open window and get a view of the fight. Since there was a pause in the fighting, the three humans in the car were taking advantage to get an idea of what was going on.

"She's Naraku?" Sango questioned. "But why would she tell us about the other boy who was attacking earlier?"

Rin, after unbuckling her seatbelt, ducked under the long blade of hiraikotsu, which was blocking out half of the upper portion of the already cramped back seat. Sticking her head out the window, she curled her fingers over the car door. "He was a decoy. It may not have even been Kanna telling you about that other attacker you said. A trick to make you think you'd won, when you hadn't. It gives you a false sense of security. Since you got banged up a bit, you'd go home, clean up, and feel glad that Kagome-san was safe. During that time..." she snapped her fingers, "this. Big trick. Red herring. That's all. Kanna must have known what Naraku was doing, because she told Sesshoumaru-sama about it early and asked for help. She probably didn't intend to involve you at all, if she knew any of the rest of you even existed."

The two in the front seat exchanged an uneasy glance, then returned to looking at the scene before them. Sango frowned. "There's a shield around her. See it?" Rin and Miroku looked again, more closely, and noticed the filmy gloss that formed a small bubble around the female figure, barely visible in the darkness and just picking up a sheen on the curve near the top. "I can try breaking it with hiraikotsu, but it gives me a bad feeling...how did Kanna fight?"

"She used a mirror." Rin said. "Her name is Kagami, now, too. Sesshoumaru-sama never had to fight her, but if she's a mirror user, she probably reflects things. Just sending hiraikotsu's probably a bad idea, unless you want it shot right back at you."

"If she's using a barrier to protect herself," Miroku began thoughtfully, "that must be why Sesshoumaru and Shippou aren't moving. Their attacks can't get through. But they're both youkai. Would the shield be more susceptible to a human's spiritual attack?"

"Can you use any of your houkiri?" Sango asked him, wide eyed. There had to be something they could come up with, even just to get that barrier down for one of the two youkai to have a shot. There had to be some way to disrupt it, at least. "Naraku is in control of Kanna...if he's acting like a ghost, and living in a human body, then her barrier might have a weakness now. I just can't remember how she fought before."

"We only need to get the barrier down for a couple seconds," Miroku replied, hoping that his guess would be right. As Haiboku, he'd never had any training, never had any practice, never had any need to act as a houshi has he had been in the sengoku jidai. But he remembered it. And if Sango could remember how to throw hiraikotsu, and this Kanna person could somehow tap into her old youkai powers as a human, then there had to be a way for him to be able to use the power he'd been given as a human. Were such forms of magic attached to the kind of body one wore, or were they attached to the soul? Same person, but different. Kagome-sama, as Kikyou's reincarnate, also shared the powers of her previous incarnation. Could the same be true for him? Surely it had to be. There were other precedents. The biggest problem was that he had no idea of what to do, even if he could get close enough to, say, paste some ofuda on that barrier. Then he glanced at hiraikotsu, which was making their ride so uncomfortable. No, he didn't need to get close. Sango could throw the paper wards close enough. If they knew hiraikotsu would come flying back, surely they could get out of the way, since they were forewarned of the possibility.

He felt his stomach clench with nervousness at the idea of it. He didn't have the faintest idea of whether or not it would work, but it certainly couldn't make the situation any worse to try. He twisted around, Sango leaping back into her seat and almost banging her head on hiraikotsu as she jerked away from Miroku, who was frantically trying to dive into the back seat over the gear shift.

"What are you doing?"

With a hard tug, he yanked his school backpack from the floor of the backseat, causing Rin to tuck her feet up and out of his way. Books slipped out and cartwheeled back to the ground, but he grabbed a folder and pulled out two sheets of plain white computer paper, and bit his lip, folding it and tearing carefully. All the wrong shape. If this wasn't done right, it really wouldn't work. It might be pointless anyway. "I have an idea," he explained as he began making rectangles out of the paper. "Rin, get me a pen out my bag. Black ink."

"Okay." She dove into the mess he'd created and began fishing for pens, listening to the great idea that she hoped Miroku-sama was having.

"Naraku isn't really himself. He's not in the body of a youkai of any kind. He's basically acting like a ghost possessing a human, and ghosts can be exorcised. Kanna's a human, not a youkai. Even if her barrier was perfect in the sengoku jidai, she's human now, and if she told Sesshoumaru about what was going to happen, she's resisting Naraku's control. Even if these ofuda don't take down the barrier, they might disrupt Naraku's control, and if Kanna can get her mind back for just a few seconds..."

"Then she can lower the shield for Shippou and Sesshoumaru," Sango finished, following his train of thought. "But they might kill her."

"Not if Sesshoumaru-sama hits her with Tenseiga," Rin interjected, handing Miroku the requested black pen. He accepted it quickly, uncapped it, and stared at the pieces of paper he had torn up and set on the folder on his lap. Their ends were not perfectly cut, and they were not real ofuda, blessed and cared for the way they should be. Extra pieces of computer paper he had taken from the lab a couple days ago as scrap. He tried to clear his head and imagine what characters he should write, or what words he would say. What did one do when making ofuda? They were just...ofuda. He didn't even have a calligraphy pen for it. This was all being done so unorthodox.

"Why would that help?" Sango was asking Rin, quickly eyeing the situation across the street, and stopping her line of query as the figure of Kanna began to step upward, causing the two youkai to tense and step in the way. "They're moving."

Miroku was making shapes and forms on the paper, the only symbols he could think of, the only things that floated into his head. Banishment. Begone, evil spirit. Surely he had done this before, as a trained houshi. Hopefully his intuition and half formed memories would be enough of a guide. Otherwise, this was going to be pretty pointless.

"Rin, get me something sticky. Sango, get hiraikotsu ready."

The two women leapt into action. Rin dove back into the pile of spilled bookbag contents at her feet, while Sango opened her door and began pulling hiraikotsu back out, hoping to avoid hitting either of the two in the car with the weapon. A moment later, Rin victoriously produced a pack of peppermint gum, and began stuffing pieces in her mouth, chewing rapidly. Something sticky all right. Once hiraikotsu was out of the way, she leapt out, still chomping, and as she finally got a chewy goo formed, she pulled it out, and the three humans began using bits of greenish gum to tack on possibly dysfunctional ofuda to a five hundred year old oversized boomerang.

* * *

Naraku tilted Kanna's head to the side, regarding the two standing and blocking the path. Regardless of the number of times he tried delving into Kanna's mind, she continuously blocked one last thing. Her only attack. Stealing souls. He knew she had refound the ability in this body, but it was sealed and barricaded away, and each time he tried to pry into the little mental box she had locked that secret away in, he found a flood of painful, screaming memories of blackness, blood, death, and shearing skin send him scrambling back and away. It was only a matter of time before he opened that locked box in her soul, but it was needed now, and she was fighting him. Kanna, fighting him, of all the ridiculous people to try to resist. With her soul safely controlled in the sengoku jidai, he had no such troubles before, such as he had with Kagura. Kanna, though, was a sneaky, cold little bitch instead of her theatrical, more blatantly temperamental sister. Apparently she'd watched him too well. Keeping her under control had been easy since he had kept her on a leash from the beginning. She had no chance to betray him or fight him. This time around, she had too much opportunity to gain a taste of Kagura's coveted freedom.

Since neither the grown up kitsune brat or the snotty inuyoukai were attacking, there was nothing to reflect. Since a shield was pure defense as well, and he had restricted access to Kanna's soul stealing techniques, they were stuck glaring at each other and unmovable. The youkai couldn't get to him, and he had no offensive attacks. The ruse with Onigumo had been revealed, and he was stuck. Even turning around and trying to walk away would be met with the same result. One of the two would leap to the other side of him and block his path back down the steps. So this had to end here, somehow, in the preternatural, watery blue light provided by the foxfire shield.

It was Shippou who reacted first, his head snapping up and gaze changing directions, since he remembered most clearly what the sound meant.

"_Hiraikotsu!_"

And then the whirling, whizzing sound of a large boomerang cleaving the air roared forward, and he looked down to the street just in time to see Sango finish flinging her weapon, Miroku and another woman standing just behind her. He'd worry about how they found out later. Hopefully, they were working with a plan. Sesshoumaru still had his Tenseiga, sheathed, at his side.

The fraction of a second faster reaction Shippou had gained was gone, and Sesshoumaru was moving, Toukijin sliding back into its sheath as blades switched, his body a blur of speed as hiraikotsu impacted.

Naraku had been unprepared for a rear assault, but looked only with short lived boredom at the slicing taiji-ya boomerang flying through the air. Easily blocked with Kanna's barrier. Then, as the youkai bone touched the thin dome of the shield, one, then two of several bits of paper stuck to the weapon sparked, crackling with indigo lightning against the translucent barrier. It stung, sharply, and Naraku found himself reminded again of how weak this body was in comparison to what he had achieved in the sengoku jidai. It was a pathetic attempt, really, and stung as sheer white energies fluxed feather light across the surface of his defense, hiraikotsu having only a moment before it was reflected back by the mirror now being turned against it.

Hiraikotsu was swatted easily back towards its owner, who was even now ducking for cover along with her supporters. Weak, and stupid. It would only be a matter of time before he broke the last corners of Kanna's mind, and was able to begin changing the past that they had worked to create. He would become the victor, by changing the present.

As he reached into the opening little box of locked up memory, there was something cold touching him, wrapping around the thin strands of thought he sent to claim her offensive power with. In Kanna's mind, in that one, little corner of her mind where she was hiding tucked away, whispering to him of his defeat, he first felt the empty, endless cold of a void, yawning open from that secret of how to steal a soul. It was black, empty, and reaching open, blotting out his sight as he strove to understand it, to try to touch it, possess it, claim it. But there was nothing there to touch. He found himself falling, and could hear Kanna's quiet, childish voice still whispering to him.

"Farewell."

He had overpowered her weak little soul, but with that moment of distraction, with that short, pathetic attempt to breach his barrier with some human's powers, she had slipped back into control, and as hiraikotsu flew away...the shield dropped.

A shining silver arc sliced through the air at Kanna's back as Sesshoumaru cut her across the neck, Tenseiga cutting but not cutting, severing her skin, hair, spine, and yet leaving them all perfect and unharmed even as the sharp edge slid through her body.

Black eyes expanded in shock, and the twisted smile that had graced Kanna's features contorted as her mouth stretched open, and a pitch colored smoke poured from her lips, hissing and frothing up into the air as she fell, collapsing to the hard stone steps of the jinja, her mirror released from her hands and shattering to the ground beside her as she crumpled, laying splayed on the steps as the dark cloud hovered above her, finally sent into oblivion by a short swipe from Tenseiga.

On the street, the three humans crawled back towards the steps, looking cautiously towards the scene before them. Sesshoumaru stood over the unconscious, unmoving form of Kanna, while Shippou watched the two of them, frowning, then summoned the leaves he had thrown back, the shield around the Higurashi jinja fading away into the night sky, and the azure light vanishing from the scene, leaving it darker than before, and very still.

Sesshoumaru sheathed Tenseiga, and the sound of the sword slipping back into the scabbard broke the silence. Rin began to run up the steps, Miroku waiting to join her for only a moment, while Sango reclaimed hiraikotsu from where it had landed, hitting the ground and flipping over, lying on its side.

As a group, they began to gather around the body of Kanna, which Sesshoumaru knelt beside, turning carefully over and watching as though in consideration for the possibility of her wakening. When her eyes remained closed, he frowned slightly, then began to pick her up, seeing that she was unharmed.

"Rin, where did she live?"

The young woman blinked, then frantically began searching through her pockets for paper with addresses on it. "I've got it here somewhere...it's not really far, we can walk, or we can have Miroku-sama drive if it's too much..."

"Is she even alive?" Sango found herself asking, Miroku and herself standing a bit further back from the inuyoukai than Rin chose to stand. Shippou was standing warily a couple steps away, unsure of how to treat Sesshoumaru in this situation. He had never really been a friend of their group, but in the end, he was Naraku's enemy as well. How to react? Thank him?

Golden eyes turned on Sango, and she noticed the stripes on his face as well. If he hid his appearance during the day to live, then that deception was gone now. The images she had in her memory of him in armor were replaced by a business suit and a black trenchcoat, with the unconscious Kanna cradled in two arms. Wordlessly, he began to walk down the steps, with Rin tagging quickly along just behind him, her boots making a sharp, noisy contrast to the silent descending of Sesshoumaru.

"Um," Rin began a little awkwardly, taking couple more steps to follow, then stopping to call back, "if you want to come, you can. She's okay, Naraku's gone...we're going to take her home...um, I don't know if you want to go or not though...she...um..." Rin shifted around nervously, then took another step to follow. "She has a sister...family, you know, so we should take her back...try to explain...something. I don't know...Sesshoumaru-sama! I'm coming!" With that stuttered explanation, Rin turned and ran down to catch up with Sesshoumaru, who was waiting at the foot of the stairs. With a quick point in the right direction from Rin, they began walking away.

Shippou sighed. "Cryptic bastard, ain't he?"

Sango and Miroku looked at each other, then at Shippou. "Maybe we should follow them." Miroku suggested, as they passed behind the angle of the trees. Everything seemed peaceful here now, if awkwardly strange. Sesshoumaru had acted as though this were just ordinary business as usual, though for them, this was more of a life and death struggle. It was a little disconcerting to see it treated so casually by someone else.

"Sango?" Shippou asked, finally noticing the mess hiraikotsu was in. "What did you two do?"

"Eh..." Sango managed, looking down at the flat side of her boomerang. Bits of gum, burned off paper and char were stuck to the side of the weapon, making it look like a pock marked mess. "Miroku made some ofuda...so we stuck it to hiraikotsu..."

Shippou blinked at her. Part of him wailed at the thought of damaging the antique he took care of for so long, but most of him was just amused at the resourcefulness of it all. And the sheepish looks on Sango and Miroku's faces. Damn they had good timing. He began to laugh, earning uneasy smiles from the two humans. Shaking his head, he sighed, noticed the remains of the mirror on the ground, and gathered up the frame to remove any lingering evidence.

"Come on. Wherever Sesshoumaru is going, he's going to scare the crap out of Kanna's family taking her there like that. And I want to know how Sesshoumaru and Rin got involved in all this."

Together, the three of them slowly began making their way back down the steps, sending careful, hopeful glances occasionally behind them, towards the quiet Higurashi household, and the trees outside the jinja that eventually hid it from their view.

* * *

"Would you stop squirming already?"

"That stings!"

"Stop being such a big baby, Kouga," Kagura scolded as she finished swiping his chin with a cotton ball of iodine. She dropped it into the wastebasket and grabbed a band-aid out of the box, unwrapping it from its paper sheath. "You probably got the scrape when you fell. It's not even bleeding anymore, but it should be cleaned."

"You sound like my mom."

Patting the band-aid into place, she stepped back, putting her hands on her hips and scowling at him. "Do I look at all like your mother?"

He just glowered back at her, looking grumpy as he muttered a: "No." He particularly did not want to admit this because when Kagura had left to change out of her ruined shirt, she had come out wearing the now dry but formerly rain soaked tank top from the day they met. No, she definitely did not look like his mother. He looked at the floor and tried to turn his grimace into a scowl of his own, but failed, seeing a pair of silver polished toes in his view instead.

They had spent some time getting themselves cleaned up and straightened out, a little awkwardly trying to figure out how exactly to treat the other. Kagura had eventually decided that Kouga was banged up as well, and had begun bossily ordering him around while taking her turn as nurse. Due to this, they'd more or less fallen back into the pattern they'd begun to establish when they'd first met. Argue, bicker, argue, tease, laugh, then repeat.

They were still waiting for a call from Sango and Miroku. Kouga had filled Kagura in somewhat over the names she had not learned yet. It was sometime over the course of their conversation that Kagura had left for a few minutes to change out of her bloody, torn clothing, returning to insist on cleaning up Kouga.

Kagura took a sideways glance at Kouga, and considered the strange situation they were finding themselves in. She was strangely happy they weren't really fighting anymore...she'd have lived if things had turned out differently, and if he had continued to hate her. She didn't really love him or anything. She wasn't Juliet, falling all over herself at first sight. That was stuff for romance novels, which this definitely was not. Love was far too strong a word for whatever it was that she rather reluctantly admitted to herself, but she wasn't sure if 'like' was right either. She liked the silver nail polish she borrowed from onee-chan, and she liked eating chocolate when she had the munchies. Neither of those things really compared. Affection, maybe. Care, despite the arguing. No, she would have done just fine had things been different right now. But she kind of thought it was better this way. Ah, what in the world would her past self have thought to know all this? She'd probably scornfully laugh in disbelief. She still didn't fully believe it now. Noticing the hesitant, though tentatively friendly way they both were getting along, she wondered if maybe he was of the same opinion. Still, she wasn't quite ready to ask, since she wasn't sure how to explain what was going on in her own head. She'd wait, and see, and try to be careful.

As Kouga was about to open his mouth with some sort of continuation to his admission on her not appearing like his mother, there was a knocking sound from the front door. Actually, it sounded like someone was kicking it to draw attention rather than knocking, the sound usually used when hands were full of groceries or some other items. So, Kagura didn't feel particularly worried hearing it. Onee-chan probably just went grocery shopping then, and she couldn't turn the doorknob on her own. Awfully late though. Weird. She'd need some help.

"I'll get it. It's probably just onee-chan...she's really late," Kagura said, half to herself, half to Kouga, as she turned and headed towards the door, unlocking it and pulling it open, ready to question her sister for rather extreme tardiness. Instead, she found herself looking into a set of strangely golden eyes, belonging to one of the prettiest men she'd ever seen. Then, she noticed what he was holding.

"_Nee-chan!_"

The golden eyed man brushed past her as she tried to lunge forward towards her unconscious sister, sending her stumbling back and out of the way. At her frantic shout, Kouga had come running out of the bathroom, looking alarmed and not sure what to make of the fact that there seemed to be an unidentified white haired guy carrying an equally white haired woman into the apartment. Kagura finally recovered and began telling him to bring Kanna into the living room, put her on the couch, what happened, who are you, how did nee-chan get like this, who did it and she was going to seriously kick somebody's ass for doing this.

Through the bustle, Kouga stood at the end of the hallway, watching, then feeling someone's eyes on him. Turning slightly, he noticed another person hovering in the abandoned entrance, hands clasped together and staring at him shock, and a little bit of fear. A young woman, a few years older than himself, shuffling nervously backward a step as she realized he had noticed her. She ducked halfway out of the doorway, and for a moment, Kouga froze, not hearing Kagura's demanding tone behind him. He did not know this girl. He didn't recognize her, or know her name, and he knew he hadn't met her before. So it was likely she knew something about him, from before. And she was afraid. He looked down and away, slightly ashamed. He remembered what he had told Kagura earlier in the night. She hadn't looked at him fearfully when he admitted it, but this girl...her eyes were the eyes of a victim. And they made him feel guilty.

He felt too disconcerted to be glad at the arrival of three better known faces. Miroku, Sango, and Shippou in his human guise once more, stomping up the steps and quickly heading towards the open door and the familiar faces that hovered at the doorway and awaited within.

"Kouga!" Miroku exclaimed, being first in line towards the door. "What are you doing here?"

The question drew him out of his thoughts, and he managed to reply. "I brought Kagura back...you saw me. She lives here."

The three of them exchanged quick glances, and Sango finally said, "Then Kagura and Kanna were siblings again too?"

"They must be..." Shippou finished, and the three of them hurried forward and into the apartment, Kouga stepping into the living room along with them, vaguely wondering who 'Kanna' used to be. They had to mean Kagura's sister. What had she been before? Who was the guy who carried her in?

Sesshoumaru had lain Kanna out on the oversized couch, a couple of pillows tossed aside and shifted around to support her head and make room. Kagura was kneeling beside her, shoving the coffee table aside with a foot to make space, brushing the white hair out of Kanna's closed eyes. Her skin was cool, but not clammy, and she appeared to only be asleep, eyelids fluttering slightly while she dreamed. After a moment, Kagura looked up to see the rest of the group's arrival in the room, noticing Kouga's strange expression, the surprised features of the other three, and another woman warily hovering at the corner, cautiously peering in, half hiding.

After a moment, Kagura's eyes fell on the only person in the room she actually knew, other than Kouga who had not been a part of her unconscious sister's entourage. Voice a little hard with anger at whoever had hurt her sister, she locked eyes on Sango. "Who are all these people and what happened to Kagami-oneechan?"

Sango shifted from foot to foot, looking around the room. Sesshoumaru seemed to be satisfied with blandly looking at the couch, Rin was...cowering? In the entrance to the living room, though Shippou and Miroku seemed willing enough to meet her eyes. Kouga still had an odd expression on his face, though it was expectant on her answer as well. Neither of them had seen the second battle. They'd missed it, though Sango wondered if, at least, for Kagura, that wasn't a good thing. Kanna was still her sister. This was going to be shock enough.

With a deep breath, she decided to start with the simple part. "This is Miroku," she gestured. "And Shippou. And this is Sesshoumaru and Rin. We're all from before...though, Shippou and Sesshoumaru are youkai. They really were there."

Kagura and Kouga both looked at the newcomers, placing names to the two unfamiliar people. Frowning, Kagura looked at Rin, who had ducked even further back into the shadows of the hallway at the introductions. She frowned. The woman kept flicking her eyes back and forth between the two former youkai, though they rested mostly on Kouga, sometimes flicking towards Sesshoumaru as though in reassurance he was simply there. Well, clearly something crappy had happened to her. And she did remember what Kouga had told her earlier in the evening, allowing her to hazard a guess on his part, at least. Kouga was looking away, finding the floor oddly interesting, which confirmed at least part of her suspicion.

She met eyes with Rin, the next time the young woman's eyes moved her way. "I don't remember you," she said flatly. Her large eyes widened in response, and she looked taken aback. "Neither of us do," Kagura continued, gesturing pointedly at Kouga, who turned halfway back towards them in surprise. What was Kagura doing?

"That makes this our first meeting. I'm Kuraino Mai. I used to be Kagura. Nice to meet you."

There was a long pause as Rin crept a little closer to the room, looking from Kagura to Kouga, then to Sesshoumaru, who didn't seem to want to give her any direction as to what to say in return. Her eyes slipped back towards Kouga, who carefully nodded and slowly managed to say, "I'm Kotaishi...used to be Kouga...nice...to meet you. Rin."

The words were not direct. It was not an apology, precisely, but perhaps a request for understanding. A new meeting. Rin didn't need enemies. A tentative smile began to tug at her mouth, and she shyly edged a little closer, still clinging to the corner, but entering the room at last. "It's nice you meet you."

Shippou was really the only one who was either willing to look relieved, or actually understood the possible badness of the situation. He expelled the huge breath he'd been holding, while the others looked at him in puzzlement. He grinned sheepishly and tried to wave it off when Miroku and Sango continued to stare at him.

Then, very softly, Kanna's voice whispered up from the couch. "Kagura?"

The diversion ended, and Kagura twisted back around to look at Kanna, whose black eyes were cracked slightly open, looking at the figure closest to her.

"Nee-chan? Are you okay? What happened?"

She closed her eyes again for a moment, licked her lips, then looked past Kagura to see Sesshoumaru, standing slightly separate from the others, watching the scene with more calmness than any of the others. Kanna almost managed a smile, but instead simply returned the calm gaze. It was enough. It worked. She'd find out where the other reincarnates had come from later. Right now, she was so sleepy. So very sleepy. Everything was okay now. "Sesshoumaru...my thanks."

Her lashes slipped down to her cheeks, and she slept.

"Nee-chan? Nee-chan!"

"She is asleep," Sesshoumaru said, moving out of the spot he had claimed for the last few minutes and began to head to the door. "Yelling at her will do nothing. Allow her to rest." He brushed past Sango, Miroku and Shippou, and with a simple "Rin," the girl began to tag along behind him with only a quick wave as goodbye, and the door opened and closed, leaving the room slightly emptier. Kagura glared after him. What was stuck up his ass?

Shippou sighed again, then folded his arms and looked sourly after the vanished figures, grumbling. "Well, now that the great and mighty Sesshoumaru-sama has seen fit to remove his most august presence..."

"Would somebody just tell me what happened?" Kagura said, sounding exasperated. "Why is my sister unconscious?"

It was Miroku who finally said it. "Your sister was possessed by Naraku."

Kagura blinked, staring at him in disbelief, then realized that all three of them were standing there looking completely serious. They meant it. That left only one word to come screeching out of her throat. "_What?_"

Kouga was able to speak again before she could, staring at them and then at the slumbering form of Kanna. "But we defeated him! What do you mean, she was possessed by Naraku? Did he jump bodies or something?"

Shippou stepped forward slightly, shaking his head and now commanding the full attention of everyone in the room. "No, though trying something like that in the past wouldn't have surprised me..." he ran a hand through his hair. "Now, though...it was a trick. A damned good one, too. In the sengoku jidai, Naraku was created as a separate consciousness in the body of a human man named Onigumo. It seems he found Onigumo again and found a way to work with him. Onigumo was basically a setup. We'd think we'd won, go home after a hard fight, and leave Kagome completely unprotected. Naraku could stroll right up and kill Kagome."

Kouga went dead white, while Kagura, who had risen to her knees as she'd listened, sank to the floor and looked at Kanna again. She hadn't told her anything. Not a word. Her stupid big sister. What did she think she was doing? Trying to protect her? And what happened if she failed? Naraku could have attacked her. She could have at least tried to help, dammit! Stupid...she'd barely told her anything...probably wouldn't have told her anything at all unless she had begun to remember. Stupid nee-chan, trying to do things on her own. What was she trying to prove?

_I will be free._

Kagura closed her eyes for a moment. Redemption. Nee-chan would worry about something like that. The redemption of Kanna. That's what she was trying to achieve. Redemption. Maybe she'd wanted to redeem herself a little too...maybe that was part of why she'd gone to help fight earlier in the night. She barely remembered Kanna as she was in the sengoku jidai. But Kagura knew that she had always hated and resisted Naraku. Somehow, she got the feeling Kanna had not. And now, as a human, she wanted to be free.

Leech. Parasite.

She kept looking at Kanna. "Is he still...?"

"No," Shippou replied. "That's where Sesshoumaru came in, I think. I don't know exactly what happened, but he knew what to expect. He severed Naraku from her with his sword, Tenseiga. Damn useful thing, that. Still think it's kind of weird he's got it, but...eh."

Kagome. Kagome? "Kagome?"

"The miko," Shippou supplied. "Who was from this time. She lives at the Higurashi jinja."

Lovely, _now_ the time travel turns up. This was hurting her head. She placed a hand to her temple in an attempt to soothe it. Nee-chan had mentioned the Kagome girl before, when she had shown her images of the past. She almost scowled over at Kouga. So that was what was going on with that dazed, infatuated look of his. Idiot. The girl who ran past the other day. Higurashi. That made things make so much more sense. But Kouga was still being an idiot about her. Humph. She'd see about that.

Her hand fell away from her forehead, and she slumped against the side of the couch, trying to remember to breathe and climb her way out of the feeling of shock.

"We didn't know until Rin told us," Sango added. "About Shoukon being Onigumo and not Naraku. Shippou figured it out later on his own, but she just happened to turn up in our doorway. Actually, I'm starting to get worried about Kohaku," she finished, looking at Miroku as she said it. "He probably doesn't have a clue about what she was rambling about earlier. And she said she'd go back...if she meant right away..."

Miroku nodded in agreement. "We should be there. Whether she does or not. Perhaps it's time to let him in on everything as well."

"That may be even more difficult than you're expecting," Shippou warned, frowning. "Kohaku may not even want to remember everything. Or anything at all." He glanced towards Kagura and Kanna. "You seem to be dealing with things as well as can be expected, but...it took Kohaku a long time to recover before. He might resist the memories now, too."

"It's going to be a long night..." Miroku sighed, considering the time already. If what Shippou said was true, which is probably was, then they had a lot to do yet. Lots of talking. And confusion. Hopefully, Kohaku wouldn't be quite as confrontational as Kouga was, at least.

"Shippou..." Sango began to ask, faltering. She'd prefer it if the kitsune was with...her memories and Miroku's were so incomplete still. Growing, but incomplete. Shippou was the best person to fill in the gaps. He seemed to understand her unspoken request, and grinned, puffing up a bit self importantly.

"Don't worry, I'll come." He cast another glance towards Kagura, who was now silently watching Kanna, and Kouga, was was uncomfortably looking between the three of the original group and the figures at the couch. "Kouga?"

He started a little, then shifted around a bit as he tried to decide what to do. Then he folded his arms stoutly and glowered at the floor. Damn this was going to get embarrassing. "Kagura's going to need help getting Kanna to her room...I'll stick around a little more. See you later."

Sango blinked owlishly at the pouty, sulky look on Kouga's face, though Miroku was trying very hard to smother a smile. Shippou seemed to be struggling with the weird concept in general, but managed to make a noncommittal, "Okay...see you..."

The three of them left the others that way, waving briefly and mouthing goodbyes, all knowing that sometime over the course of the next day, they'd be meeting up again, when they were more fresh, in less shock, and didn't have a recently possessed Kanna on their hands.

As the door closed behind them, and they stepped into the hallway, they remained just barely within hearing range of Kagura's quiet, "Thanks," before the door shut, and they were again on their own.

One story had ended, at least. Tomorrow morning, the real thing would begin.


	13. Epilogue

_Good Karma_

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_Epilogue-_

Rubbing his eyes in the quiet of the morning, Miroku sighed and looked up the long row of jinja steps once more. Assuming everything from last night's somewhat insane level of activity had actually worked, and everything was still going according to plan, Kagome-sama was soon going to get abruptly yanked from one time to another by a really ugly centipede youkai after chasing her cat Buyo into the wellhouse. Hopefully the whim of the cat would go according to plan, too. After all the fighting, that cat had to go into the wellhouse. If it didn't, everything was for nothing and risking their lives to ensure a particular past was pointless. Miroku would personally strangle the cat if it didn't go into the stupid wellhouse.

He felt like a mess too, and though Kohaku had lent him a spare, clean shirt, he was still in the same pants he'd been wearing when the huge arm of an oversized kugutsu gone wrong sent him flying into the dirt last night. And he'd been up late last night too. Pretty much everyone was. But he and Sango had briefly discussed coming to the Higurashi Jinja that morning to wait. So that was where they were. Waiting to hear Kagome's scream, (assuming she screamed) or the sound of breaking wood when the centipede broke through the well (assuming it could be heard that far) or just the sounds of her frantic family running around and trying to figure out where Kagome had just disappeared to. They wanted confirmation that it was happening.

The sound of Sango yawning hugely distracted him for a moment. She was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, a hand over her mouth, and in jeans instead of her school uniform. No school for her today. She could afford to skip once due to the seriousness of the situation, and her father even ended up offering to pull a Jii-chan on Sango's behalf. Sango and Kohaku's father had shown up about an hour into the very messy attempt at explaining things to Kohaku, and nobody, including Shippou, had been able to come up with a good reason why everyone would suddenly stop talking when he came into a room...as well as cover up the fact Shippou was back in kitsune form as evidence for Kohaku, and it was even more difficult to explain away a really realistic looking poofy tail.

Then of course, Rin was there too, and the girl seemed unable to either keep a secret or tell a lie. Rin had arrived barely ten minutes after Sango, Miroku and Shippou had, and had proved to know considerably more than any of the other incarnates to date. It had taken a bit of discussion, but they'd more or less come to the agreement that whoever Ryoushi-san had been in any previous lives, he hadn't actually been Sango and Kohaku's father in the sengoku jidai, despite the fact he was now. Getting stuck amid the explanations and the shock his son was going through, as well as a fairly natural state of disbelief, he'd pulled himself together fairly well, and though disconcerted, had attempted to understand youkai were actually real, there was one standing in his living room, his son and daughter were youkai taiji-ya in a past life, his son was once coerced into working for some evil entity, his daughter had recently gone into battle with a five hundred year old giant boomerang against said evil entity, survived, been victorious, and apparently seemed to be dating someone who used to ask every woman in sight to bear his children.

He ended up going to bed very late with quite the headache.

Shippou had gone home sometime around two in the morning, and though he had left only because he'd believed the revelations were finally coming to an end, the four reincarnates had stayed up another hour, simply catching up and repeating the events of the last week from various perspectives. Kohaku had been in shock most of the time they talked, and lack of sleep was beginning to numb the feeling, though he wasn't distracted enough to allow Miroku anywhere near Sango's room when the former houshi asked if he could just crash there for the night.

Rin looked sleepy herself, but refused Sango's offer of a couch and pillow. She claimed she didn't want a grumpy Sesshoumaru-sama being the first thing any of them saw in the morning, coming to collect his absent charge. So she had left, grudgingly, requesting that they try talking again the next afternoon. Kohaku's memory was far from clear, and as Shippou had once suggested, he seemed to be subconsciously resisting any memories. The events of the last few days had occupied much of their conversation, as well as convincing it was, indeed, real. Unearthing memories out of Kohaku's mind was something that would take time and care.

So they waited at the steps, with less than a handful of hours of sleep, waiting and wondering what to say to Kagome's family after she disappeared down the well. Of course, there were stories about the events about to unfold in the sengoku jidai. Kagome's family probably had heard about them, though they may not realize exactly how connected they were to those supposedly mythical events. Would her mother or grandfather even let her continue to go if they knew she wasn't going to actually be protected in that other time?

"What time is it?" Sango asked sleepily, looking up at him. Her hair was up in its usual ponytail, and her brown eyes looked a little bleary from lack of sleep. She placed her elbow on her knee, and her chin in her hand. Only one or two straggling students had gone by them, mostly ignoring the couple on the sidewalk.

Glancing down at his watch, Miroku sighed, noticing the position of the hands. This part of the morning was just dragging with exhausted anticipation. "She's still got plenty of time to want to leave for school," he replied with a sigh, then plopped down next to her on the bottom step. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

She tilted her head to the side and looked at him with a little more alertness. "We made sure Kagome-chan was safe to go to the past. So long as her cat goes into the wellhouse, everything should be fine, unless her mom suddenly decides it's not safe for her there once she gets back for the first time. It was your idea to talk to them." She arched an eyebrow. "Having second thoughts?"

He shrugged and chuckled once, grinning at her. "Not really. Just checking. You realize how strange she'll think it is if we ever meet her in this time?"

"After everything is over then?" He nodded, and she sighed, hand coming down from her chin so she could use his more comfortable shoulder as a warm, temporary pillow. "She'd probably be shocked," Sango yawned again, closing her eyes, then forcing them open again. This wasn't really the best time or place to fall asleep, and she felt like she was ready to doze off any moment. "It would be fun, though, I guess," she mumbled, half to herself, half to Miroku. "Not seeing her shocked, I mean, but telling her we're here, and we're okay, even if a little different."

"Different?"

"I'm leaning against you and your hand is not on my rear end, Miroku."

"Ah. Case in point." He considered this for a moment. "You know, I could put it there if you want. I certainly wouldn't mind feeling you up if you miss it that much..."

She snorted and the punched him in the arm, half laughing. "Pervert."

For a moment, he laughed along with her, then looked down at the top of her head and the slight curve of her face he could see from above. She usually used to smack him for any inappropriate touching on his behalf. At least, that was what he remembered. And yet, at the same time, it was perfectly natural to sit there on the steps with her and joke about the old lechery problem. Perhaps it was just overlapping memories of different stages in their past life relationship. At one point in time, sitting there with her leaning comfortably against him was out of the question. At another, it was perfectly natural, as though they'd done this for years. He considered that, wondering and trying to remember, exactly, what he had said or done or asked to create that kind of shift.

It took a little thought, but after a moment, a tiny grin crept onto his face.

The sound of talking only barely registered in his mind until it got loud enough and close enough for him to recognize the speakers.

"I told you they'd be here."

"I never said they wouldn't be!"

He tapped Sango on the shoulder, in case she actually had managed to drift off for a nap. "The former youkai are approaching, for I sense an aura of arguing draw near..."

Sango muttered something unintelligible about it being too early for anyone normal to be arguing, but sat up straighter and looked towards the source of the respectively pointless sounding argument. Sure enough, Kouga and Kagura were quickly crossing the street, Kagura obviously having recently told Kouga that she was of the opinion Sango and Miroku would be waiting at the jinja that morning.

"So you decided to show up this morning as well?" Miroku asked by way of interruption, the two former youkai stopping and looking at the two of them without any indication of being suprised at their presence. "Come to wait?"

Kagura looked narrowly at Kouga and shrugged, while he nodded the affirmative, folding his arms as he spoke. "Yeah. Just making sure there are no more screw-ups about to happen. Last thing we need after all that crap last night."

"How's Kanna?" Sango asked, hand going back to her cheek as she returned her elbow to her knee, peering up towards Kagura. "I'm surprised you didn't stay home to keep an eye on her."

Kagura sniffed at that and rolled her eyes drolly. "Well, I was going to, but she woke up this morning and the first words out of her mouth were: 'Why aren't you dressed for school?'" She rolled her eyes again, then tucked the feather in her headband behind her ear to keep it from fluttering around her face in the breeze. "If she's healthy enough to start in on that, I'm sure she'll be fine."

Miroku shifted on the steps, stretching out a leg and trying not to pick at a new, lime colored grass stain. "Shippou said something about Tenseiga being a healing sword, and I get the impression Sesshoumaru knew what he was doing." That only earned him an indifferent shrug.

The words were followed by the high pitched, if faint, screaming from up the steps, and the four heads turned to find the source of the sound. It wasn't the mindless screaming of a panicking girl getting sucked down a well, but the sound of a panicking younger brother screaming for Mama and Jii-chan, because a big huge monster just jumped up and grabbed his big sister.

"Well, that's that, I guess," Kagura remarked dryly as everyone simply stood there, half listening to the distant shouting of Souta, which was growing punctuated by short bouts of silence.

"He's telling them what happened," Kouga added thoughtfully, head tilted to one side as though straining to hear from down the steps and across the upper courtyard. "They're probably asking questions. That's about all right now."

The four reincarnates looked between themselves for a moment before Sango spoke up. "Miroku and I are going to talk to them. Just to make sure they don't forbid Kagome from going to the past or anything. She always came back pretty freely, though I know my dad would never let me go into that kind of danger knowing how bad it could be."

"You're expecting to convince them?" Kagura asked skeptically.

Miroku shrugged and stood up, brushing off his pants and offering a hand to Sango, to help pull her up. "Reassure them, at least, that Inuyasha will be protecting her from the start."

Kouga snorted in distaste, and Kagura shot him a deathly glare that he failed to notice while he grumbled to himself about inukoro and their stupidity. Primly, Kagura returned, "Then if that Kagome friend of yours is on her way, it's time to get going to school. Good luck with it, anyway."

"We're meeting after school at the antique shop," Sango hastened to add, receiving an abrupt nod in understanding. With that, Kagura turned and began to walk up the street, towards the school. After a few steps, she realized she was walking alone, and hesitated, not looking back over her shoulder, knowing Kouga was standing still and watching the empty space visible between the red expanse of torii at the top of the steps. She sighed, at least attempting some patience, and with mock irritation, called back, "Oy, Kouga, are you coming or not?"

The words broke him out of his reverie, and he looked over to see her standing there, back to him, waiting. He sighed, casting a final glance up the steps, then grumbled back, "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming, keep your shirt on..."

Kagura, unseen to Kouga, grinned wickedly at that, and began to move forward again, loudly complaining, "What is it with you and wanting to see me with my shirt off? I had no idea you were such a pervert, Kouga."

Kouga stopped for a second in shock, spluttering, then turned red in the face, shouting, "Kagura, dammit, what the hell are you saying things like that for?"

The response was light, teasing laughter as she walked away, Kouga storming after, and from at the base of the steps leading up the Higurashi Jinja, Sango and Miroku watched, dumbfounded, as the other two walked away towards the school, Kouga complaining loudly over Kagura's laughter until they finally rounded the corner and disappeared.

"You know," Miroku began thoughtfully, "of all the bizarre things we've seen and learned over the last few days, I would have to say that seeing the two of them even attempting to get along has to be the strangest."

Sango nodded in mute agreement.

"Well then, shall we go?" Miroku offered, extending a hand dramatically to Sango, which she took with a smile and a flourish as they began to ascend the stairs. There were no further sounds coming from the jinja area, which hopefully meant they were checking out the well, and not doing something drastic like calling the police. Glancing out of the corner of his eye at Sango as they continued to climb the steps, Miroku said lightly, "You know, we never did quite reach a dozen."

Sango blinked and looked at him, face turned towards her with an eyebrow quirked expectantly. Her eyes widened and she felt a blush start rising to her face. Well, she did know he'd remember the same things she had begun to recall eventually, but he just had to bring them up now. Tactless idiot.

"No," she replied carefully, trying to keep her face from flushing bright red and keeping her voice even. It still came out garbled. "No, we didn't." What was she supposed to say?

"Would you be interested in finishing the number sometime? Perhaps once we're done with our modern day requirements, like college and a job?"

He still had that wicked little grin on his face, damn him. And her face was probably quite crimson. Of all the stupid times and places. Exasperated and embarrassed, she blustered, "I already said I would, didn't I? Sukebe houshi..."

Together, the two of them crested the top of the stairs to see the layout of the Higurashi Jinja lying before them, and the clustered figures of Kagome's mother, grandfather, and younger brother at the entrance to the wellhouse, talking rapidly amongst themselves.

Everything was just as it should be.

* * *

_fin_  
_(of the fic, at least)_


End file.
